aliforma 

Tional 

sility 


1 


,#—  (/T-&SI^<^ 


3  1822  02255  0644 


presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 


Mr.  Armistead  B.  Carter 


ftetcrptrccs  of  JFordgn  gutljors. 


SAINTE-BEUVE'S 
PORTRAITS     OF    WOMEN 


Social  Sciences  &  Humanities  Library 

University  of  California,  San  Diego 
Please  Note:  This  item  is  subject  to  recall. 

Date  Due 
DEC  1  9  1996 


CI39(2#5) 


UCSD  Li). 


C.    A.    SAINTE-BEUVE. 
AGED  62. 


PORTRAITS    OF    WOMEN 
BY  C   A.  SAINTE-BEUVE 


TRANSLA  TED  B  Y 
HELEN     STOTT 


CHICAGO 

A.    C.    M'CLURG,    &    CO. 
1891 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

PREFATORY  NOTE, vii 

MADAME  DE  MAINTENON,  1851,    .        .        .        .  i 

MADAME  DE  SEVJGNE,   1829,          ....  22 

MADAME  DE  STAEL,  1835 43 

JEANNE  o'Aac,  1850, 134 

MARIE  ANTOINETTE,  1851, 153 

MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE,  1836,  ....  170 


PREFATORY   NOTE. 


I-x  compiling  thia  volume  of  Sainte-Beuve's  studies  of 
illustrious  women,  I  have  not  confined  my  choice  to 
his  "  Portrait "  studies,  but  have  selected  from  them 
and  from  his  Causeries  the  essays  which  appeared  to 
me  most  likely  not  only  to  interest  English  readers, 
but  also  those  which  exemplify  the  exploring  and  far- 
reaching  erudition  which  the  great  French  critic  has 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  complex  science  of  literary 
criticism.  His  method  is  original  ;  his  style,  neither 
very  ponderous  nor  very  brilliant,  is  essentially 
penetrating  and  analytic.  He  read  and  studied, 
carefully  observed  and  noted,  every  natural  trait  in  a 
writer  as  an  individual ;  every  literary  characteristic  ; 
recognised  every  shade  of  opinion,  discussed  these 
opinions  liberally  ;  and  then,  with  infinite  subtlety  of 
understanding  and  great  copiousness  of  language,  he 
boldly  clothed  his  subject  with  his  own  convictions, 
making,  as  he  himself  has  said,  his  "  praise  prominent 
and  his  criticism  unobtrusive,"  blending  enchantment 
with  his  smiling  sarcasm,  fascinating  ever  and  anon  by 
those  flashes  of  poetic  prose  which  relieve  some  of  his 
most  curiously-enveloped  passages. 

In  another  volume  of  this  series  there  is  a  critical 
memoir  of  Sainte-Beuve  by  Mr.  William  Sharp,  and 
to  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  add  in  this  volume.  I 
quote,  however,  one  or  two  passages  from  the  Remin- 


viii  PREFA  TOR  Y  NO  TE. 

isceuces  of  his  latest  secretary,  M.  Jules  Troubat,  which 
disclose  in  an  interesting  and  graphic  manner  the 
private  life  of  the  celebrated  critic  : — 

"  On  the  day  my  duties  began,  I  was  conducted  by  a 
narrow  carpeted  staircase  to  the  master's  study.  Sainte- 
Beuve  just  touched  my  hand  without  grasping  it, 
holding  his  fingers  straight,  after  the  priestly  fashion. 
At  one  corner  of  the  table  was  a  little  silver  saucepan 
with  the  remains  of  milk  in  it.  He  had  just  finished 
his  frugal  luncheon,  which  consisted  of  tea  with  milk 
and  two  rolls  spread  with  fresh  butter, — an  English 
fashion,  or  one  acquired  at  Boulogne  in  his  childhood. 
He  always  left  a  little  of  this  bread  and  milk,  and  put 
it  in  a  corner  by  the  fireside  for  Mignonne.*  This 
was  how  he  kept  his  head  clear  and  cool  for  work  ;  his 
feet  he  kept  warm  in  winter  by  the  aid  of  a  foot- warmer, 
which  was  also  placed  in  the  carriage  on  Thursdays 
when  he  went  to  the  Academy.  He  took  the  greatest 
care  of  his  brain,  using  nothing  to  excite  it,  not  even 
coffee,  and  never  smoking;  the  utmost  stimulant  he 
ever  allowed  himself  was  the  'About'  mixture,  a  little 
Curagoa  with  a  suspicion  of  rum,  for  which  the  witty 
author  of  the  Roi  des  Montagues  had  given  him  the  recipe. 
Dinner,  more  substantial  than  luncheon,  was  delicately 
composed  of  soup,  roast  meat  of  some  kind,  salad, 
vegetables,  cheese,  fruit,  or  cake, — a  special  kind  of  cake, 
which  was  got  from  the  baker  in  the  Rue  Fleurus. 
He  had  a  weakness  for  strawberries,  and  sometimes  ate 

*  This  little  cat  Mignonne  deserves  a  word.  When  she  died, 
she  was  greatly  regretted  by  the  master.  She  was  the  only  cat 
he  ever  tolerated  in  his  study  ;  he  even  allowed  her  little  velvet 
paws  to  wander  about  with  daring  familiarity  among  the  books 
and  papers  which  covered  his  two  tables.  She  had  soft,  sweet 
eyes,  which  lighted  lovingly  at  a  caressing  touch,  with  an  almost 
speaking  expression  in  them. 


rREFA  TOR  Y  NO  TE.  ix 

them  with  sugar  at  night  before  retiring  to  rest.  He 
took  scarcely  a  saucerful  of  chocolat  au  lait  in  the 
morning,  and  no  bread. 

"  He  believed  himself  that  his  five  years'  engagement 
with  the  Constitutionnel  obliged  him  to  diet  himself  thus 
carefully,  in  order  to  regulate  his  talent  and  intellect. 
Each  article  he  wrote  was  worth  a  hundred  crowns  to 
him.  His  patrimony  was  small ;  from  his  mother  he 
had  inherited  the  house  he  lived  in,  with  an  income 
of  about  two  thousand  livres. 

"  He  made  me  a  sign  to  sit  down  on  the  easy-chair 
between  the  bed  and  the  fireplace,  an  easy-chair  in 
green  repp,  historic  in  its  simplicity,  and  in  which  all 
Sainte-Beuve's  visitors  had  sat. 

" '  There,'  he  said,  pointing  to  a  pile  of  fifteen 
volumes,  '  are  Veuillot's  articles ;  I  have  to  write  on 
him  this  week,  so  all  that  has  to  be  swallowed. 
Monday,  Tuesday,  Wednesday,  and  Thursday,  I  dictate 
the  article  which  will  appear  on  the  following  Monday, 
read,  take  notes,  and  think  over  the  next  article ; 
Friday  I  put  that  on  paper,  a  labour  .  .  .  painful  too  ; 
.  .  .  Saturday  and  Sunday  we  correct  the  proofs  of 
Monday's  article.  .  .  .  Therefore  my  bad  temper  begins 
on  Monday  ;  Tuesday  it  is  worse ;  Wednesday  at  its 
height ;  Thursday  quite  as  bad  ;  Friday  I  am  invisible 
all  day,  at  home  to  no  one ;  I  put  cotton  in  my  ears  so 
that  no  external  sound  will  jar  upon  me  :  I  build  up 
my  article  as  a  tailor  builds  a  coat.  .  .  .' 

"And,  indeed,  the  rough  drafts  or  jottings  which 
issued  from  his  hands  on  the  Friday  evenings  when  he 
had  built  the  article  (as  he  said),  composed  of  scraps 
pinned  together,  very  much  resembled  the  first  lining 
of  a  costume  ready  for  fitting  on. 

"  '  My  good  temper,'  he  continued,  '  does  not  return 
till  the  Sunday  evening  at  six  o'clock,  when  the  last 


x  PREFA  TOR  Y  NO  TE. 

pull  of  proofs  for  the  Constittitionnel  has  been  corrected 
and  signed.  ...  I  then  feel  relieved,  set  free.  ...  I 
have  a  few  hours  before  me.  ...  I  give  you  a  holiday  on 
Sunday  afternoon,  but  for  myself  I  never  have  one.  .  .  . 
I  have  no  Sunday  ...  all  days  are  alike  in  nature. 

"  '  We  live  without  any  ceremony  ;  when  you  come 
in  the  evening,  if  you  find  me  still  at  table  with  Mme. 
Dufour,  you  must  just  sit  down  and  join  in  the  con- 
versation. There  will  be  no  restraint,  and  therefore 
you  must  pay  no  attention  to  my  bad  times.  You  can 
understand,  when  one  feels  bound  for  five  years  to  do 
the  same  work  each  week — and  each  day — one  must 
have  occasional  fits  of  impatience.  .  .  .  My  life  is  like 
a  mill,  a  perpetual  feeding  and  grinding.  .  .  .  Cheron 
at  the  Library  tells  me  I  shall  overdo  it  some  day. 
Thursdays  I  have  the  Academy,  but  I  do  not  go  there 
always :  I  have  quarrelled  several  times  with  my  col- 
leagues there.  They  are  insignificant  people.  What 
can  I  do  ?  I  get  there  with  my  head  already  excited 
by  my  work,  and  I  fight  with  them.' 

"  At  this  I  laughed, — I  could  not  help  it, — and  he 
laughed  with  me. 

"  Much  has  been  said  of  Sainte-Beuve's  ill-favoured 
appearance,  a  prejudice  which  still  prevails.  For  my 
part,  I  think  that  ugliness  or  beauty  is  conditional. 
We  must  consult  men  as  regards  beauty  in  women,  and 
ask  a  woman's  opinion  as  to  whether  a  man  is  hand- 
some or  not.  Sainte-Beuve  had  a  very  expressive  face, 
illuminated  with  the  light  which  intellectual,  high- 
purposed  work  alone  gives. 

"  He  was  not  one  of  those  who  believe  that  the  name 
is  sufficient  in  literature.  He  was  for  ever  spurring 
himself  on,  as  if  he  had  to  be  continually  whetting  his 
talent.  Of  short  stature,  straight  and  portly  ;  his  full 
face  closely  shaved  each  day  ;  a  large  nose  ('  an  inquisit- 


PREFA  TOR  Y  NO  TE.  xi 

ive  nose,'  as  Eugene  Pelletan  said,  speaking  of  Napoleon 
III.),  one  of  those  inquiring,  prying  noses,  so  to  speak  ; 
the  bald  outline  of  his  head  showed  the  point  of  a 
philosopher's  cranium,  — '  a  sage  after  the  fashion  of 
the  ancient  Greeks,  to  whom  externally  he  bore  no 
slight  resemblance,' — his  bushy  reddish  eyebrows  over- 
hung his  eyes,  roofed  them  in  ;  and  the  legendary  velvet 
cap  moved  lightly  with  quick-coming  thoughts,  or 
twisted  and  turned  about  in  his  hand  in  expressing 
some  metaphorical  meaning,  just  as  the  advocates  use 
their  flat-crowned  caps  in  heated  argument. 

"  The  study  was  furnished  with  a  simplicity  which  a 
Goncourt  would  not  understand  in  a  man  (especially  a 
man  living  in  his  own  thoughts)  like  Sainte-Beuve. 
A  bed  by  the  side  of  the  door,  two  tables  joined  together 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  no  ornaments,  nor  any  artistic 
object  except  the  bust — or  rather  a  miniature  of  the 
bust — by  Mathieu-Meusnier,  which  gives  such  a  noble 
and  moreover  a  real  idea  of  the  countenance  of  the 
great  master,  and  of  which  the  original  makes  the 
pendant  to  that  of  Daunou  in  the  Library  of  Boulogne- 
sur-Mer,  his  native  town." 

This  is  Troubat's  portrait  of  the  celebrated  literary 
critic,  whose  works,  so  highly  esteemed  in  France,  are 
increasingly  read  in  England.  From  this  glimpse  of 
the  man  and  of  his  method,  we  are  able  to  form  an 
idea  of  the  minute  and  painstaking  research  he  brought 
to  bear  upon  the  studies  he  so  voluminously  produced. 
In  the  essays  on  seven  celebrated  women  which  com- 
pose this  volume,  we  find  a  chivalrous  delicacy  of  style, 
and  a  scrupulous  appreciation  of  the  sacredness  of 
literary  effort,  which  softens  the  pungency  of  critical 
judgment.  There  is  a  varied  expressiveness,  also,  in 
his  choice  of  words,  which  makes  his  prose  poetic  ; 
and  we  remark,  that  while  the  distinct  vein  of  poetry 


xii  PREFA  TOR  Y  AT0  TE. 

in  his  nature  never  disturbs  the  philosophical  subtlety 
with  which  lie  renders  each  study  a  complete  and 
scientific  analysis,  it  yet  lends  real  charm  to  the  language 
in  which  he  clothes  his  judgments  which  not  even  the 
ordeal  of  translation  can  quite  destroy. 

H  S. 
March  1891. 


MADAME    DE    MAINTENON. 

1851. 


THE  present  seems  a  favourable  time  in  which  to 
approach  the  subject  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon.  Popular 
taste  inclines  to  display  a  keen  interest  in  matters 
which  relate  to  that  great  century  when  Louis  XIV. 
reigned  ;  and  as  soon  as  we  begin  to  consider  that  epoch 
intellectually,  it  becomes  evident  that  she  must  occupy 
in  it  a  very  prominent  place.  Mme.  de  Maintenon's 
mental  qualifications  cause  us  to  pardon  her  all  those 
errors  with  which  history  justly  reproaches  her.  Her 
faults  were  greatly  exaggerated  at  the  time  by  the 
general  public.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  did  not  in  reality 
originate  any  of  the  great  Apolitical  acts  of  the  time. 
Except  in  one  or  two  instances,  which,  however,  are 
quite  open  to  dispute,  she  did  no  more  than  favour 
very  zealously  the  wrongs  which  were  perpetrated 
during  that  closing  reign.  Her  chief  concern  seems  to 
have  been  to  find  interesting  and  amusing  occupations, 
within  his  necessarily  restricted  circle,  for  the  latter 
years  of  Louis  XIV.  This  is  the  attitude,  indeed  the 
sole  part  she  assumes  in  her  language,  her  conversation, 
and  also  her  correspondence,  which  certainly  proves  this 
clearly  the  more  carefully  it  is  studied.  She  is  one  of 
those  persons  we  may  hastily  condemn,  but  who,  ou 
A 


2  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

closer  critfcism,  cannot  be  so  misjudged.  She  commands 
respect  by  her  tone  of  noble  simplicity  and  dignified 
discretion  ;  she  pleases  by  the  piquancy  and  excellence 
of  her  reasoning.  There  are  even  moments  when  we 
would  call  her  charming  ;  although  we  no  sooner  find 
ourselves  beyond  her  spell  than  the  charm  is  broken, 
and  we  resume  our  former  prejudice  against  her.  I  do 
not  know  if  I  am  expressing  the  sentiments  of  others, 
but  this  is  my  own  feeling  each  time  that  I  approach 
the  subject  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon.  I  shall  endeavour 
to  make  out  a  few  of  my  reasons,  and  to  explain  them. 

Mine,  de  Maintenon  has  of  late  years  found  a  very 
desirable  historian  in  one  of  her  own  kinsmen,  M.  le 
Due  de  Noailles,  who  writes  most  gravely  and  delicately. 
The  last  half  of  his  History  is  anxiously  looked  for  ;  I 
shall  make  ample  use  of  the  two  volumes  already 
published,  allowing  myself,  however,  a  little  more 
freedom  or  licence  in  my  judgment. 

Born  in  1635,  in  the  conciergerie  of  the  prison  of 
Niort,  where  her  father  was  for  the  time  confined, 
Franchise  d'Aubigne  began  life  as  in  a  romance,  and, 
indeed,  the  strangest  romance  which  could  have  hap- 
pened to  a  person  who  above  all  her  other  characteristics 
was  sensible.  A  grand-daughter  of  the  illustrious 
Captain  d'Aubigne,  who  distinguished  himself  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  the  daughter  of  the  profligate  Count 
Constant  d'Aubigne  and  of  a  wise,  good  mother,  she 
had  early  experience  of  the  strangeness  and  harshness 
of  fate  ;  yet  her  heart  held  a  drop  of  the  noble  blood  of 
her  ancestor,  which  gave  her  pride,  and  she  would  not 
have  changed  her  condition  for  a  more  fortunate  one 
of  lower  degree.  As  a  child  she  accompanied  her 
parents  to  Martinique.  On  her  return,  being  under 
the  care  of  a  Huguenot  aunt,  she  had,  although  born 
a  Catholic,  embraced  the  doctrines  of  Calvin,  when 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON,  3 

another  relation,  Mme.  de  Neuillant,  came  with  an 
order  from  the  court  to  rescue  her  from  heresy. 
Placed  first  in  a  convent  at  Niort,  then  removed  to 
Paris,  the  young  D'Aubigne*,  now  altogether  orphaned, 
felt  every  moment  of  her  life  the  bitterness  of 
dependence.  Mme.  de  Neuillant,  so  zealous  for  her 
spiritual  welfare,  was  so  miserably  mean  that  she 
allowed  her  to  want  for  everything.  However,  the 
young  girl  began  in  her  visits  to  Paris  to  see  the  world, 
and  from  the  first  she  made  a  successful  appearance 
there.  "  That  was  the  epoch  of  elevated  conversation, 
of  gallant  compliments  ;  in  a  word,  of  what  was  called 
the  ruelles."  Wit  easily  attained  a  position  which  was 
almost  honour.  La  jeune  Indienne,  as  she  was  called 
on  account  of  her  sojourn  in  America,  was  remarkable 
even  at  first  eight,  and  she  lost  nothing  on  closer 
acquaintance.  The  Chevalier  de  Me"re,  a  fashionable 
wit  of  the  time,  became  her  lover  and  instructor,  and 
proclaimed  her  praises.  He  has  described  her  at  this 
time  as  possessing  a  calm  and  even  temper,  "  very  hand- 
some, with  a  kind  of  beauty  which  always  pleased." 
He  recommended  her  to  the  Duchesse  de  Lesdiguieres, 
who  travelled  much,  as  one  who  had  many  charming 
resources.  "She  is  sweet,  grateful,  trustworthy,  faith- 
ful, modest,  intelligent,  and,  to  crown  her  charms,  she 
uses  her  wit  only  to  amuse  or  to  make  herself  beloved." 
When  Mile.  d'Aubigne",  on  her  return  to  Poitou,  wrote 
to  her  young  friends  in  Paris,  her  letters  were  passed 
round  as  chef s-d?  centre,  and  kept  up  her  growing  re- 
putation. It  was  about  this  time  she  came  to  know 
Scarron,  the  cripple,  a  man  of  gay  humour,  which 
passed  at  that  time  for  delicate  wit.  Surrounded  by 
affectation,  Scarron,  with  his  merry,  comical  style,  was 
as  an  antidote.  He  saw  Mile.  d'Aubigne,  and,  to  hia 
credit,  was  at  once  interested  in  her.  After  some 


4  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

reflection,  lie  thought  that  the  simplest  way  of  testify- 
ing this  interest,  and  of  aiding  her,  was  to  marry  her. 
She  consented,  giving  naively  enough  her  reason  :  "  I 
prefer  to  marry  him  rather  than  become  a  nun."  She 
lias  never  mentioned  her  poor  cripple  but  with  suitable 
respect  and  esteem,  as  a  man  of  integrity,  and  of  a 
much  more  kindly  disposition  than  those  who  judged 
him  only  by  his  sprightly  conversation,  knew.  We 
find  her  thus  at  seventeen  (1652),  in  the  earliest  bloom 
of  her  beauty,  the  wife  of  a  crippled  invalid,  her 
protector  rather  than  her  husband,  in  a  circle  of  society 
as  gay  and  unscrupulous  in  conversation  as  in  morals, 
requiring  all  her  precocious  talent  and  wise  and  watch- 
ful sense  to  enforce  consideration  and  respect  from  that 
youthful  company  of  the  Fronde.  She  succeeded, 
however,  and  this  was  her  apprenticeship  to  prudence 
and  circumspection,  which  was  to  be  the  business  and 
the  pride  of  her  whole  life.  Scarron  died  (1660),  and 
the  position  of  the  beautiful  widow  of  twenty-five, 
with  no  means,  became  more  precarious,  more  dangerous, 
than  ever.  Let  us  in  fact  picture  her  to  ourselves  in 
this  early  beauty,  which  Mile,  cle  Scudery  has  faithfully 
described  to  us  : — 

"  Lyriane  (this  is  Mme.  Scarron,  who  is  represented  in 
Clelie  as  the  wife  of  the  Roman  Scaurus), — Lyriane  was  tall, 
with  a  splendid  figure,  but  her  height  was  not  alarming,  simply 
becoming.  Her  complexion  was  very  smooth  and  beautiful, 
her  hair  a  bright  chestnut,  very  pretty,  the  nose  well  formed, 
the  mouth  well  shaped.  Her  manner  dignified,  sweet,  bright. 
and  modest ;  and,  to  render  her  beauty  still  more  strikingly 
perfect,  she  had  the  loveliest  eyes  in  the  world.  They  were 
black,  sparkling,  soft,  passionate,  and  full  of  fun  ;  there  was 
something  I  cannot  express  in  their  glance  :  a  sweet  melancholy 
appeared  in  them  at  times,  with  its  ever  present  charm  ;  while 
playfulness  also  danced  ill  them  in  turn,  with  all  the  attraction 
which  happiness  inspires." 


MADAME  DE  AIAINTENON.  5 

All  contemporary  testimony  agrees  in  regard  to  that 
In-nuty,  that  graceful  deportment,  that  wit,  and  that 
8t  rain  of  playfulness.  "  All  who  know  her,"  says  the 
Grand  Dictionnaire  des  Pre'cieuses,  "  are  quite  convinced 
that  she  is  one  of  the  most  sprightly  persons  of 
Athenes."*  And  towards  the  end  of  her  life  she 
describes  herself  as  "  gay  by  nature,  and  sad  from  her 
position."  This  shows  us  a  side  of  her  character  which 
eeems  at  the  present  day  to  have  escaped  us,  and  Avhich 
the  letters  of  Mine,  de  Maintenon  only  hint  at.  Her 
letters  give  us  only  a  glimpse  of  her  inind  ;  the  taste, 
the  high-bred  tone,  the  perfect  judgment,  and  the 
piquant  style  are  there,  but  the  spirit  with  which  she 
animated  society,  the  wit  so  discreetly  interspersed  in 
her  stories  and  conversation,  and  which  sparkled  so 
brightly  and  delicately  in  her  face  when  she  spoke 
enthusiastically,  as  Choisy  says,  all  this  is  lost  or  un- 
noticed in  her  letters.  We  have  only  a  kind  of  outline, 
or  engraving,  of  the  wit  of  Mine,  de  Mainteuon,  with 
none  of  the  rich  colour. 

A  critical  moment  arrived  for  Mme.  Scarron  after 
the  death  of  her  husband,  but  all  her  friends  hastened 
to  serve  her,  and  succeeded  in  doing  so.  She  received 
a  pension  from  the  queen-mother,  and  was  able  for 
some,  years  to  enjoy  life  as  she  felt  inclined.  She 
became  one  of  the  Hospitalieres  f  of  the  Place  Royale, 
and  there  she  met  the  best  society  ;  she  was  constantly 
at  the  Hotel  d'Albret  or  the  Hotel  de  Richelieu.  Old, 
and  at  the  height  of  her  glory,  she  spoke  of  these  years 
of  youth  and  poverty  as  the  happiest  of  her  life. 

"  All  my  youth  was  very  pleasant,"  she  said  to  her  maidens 
of  Saiiit-Cyr :  "  I  had  no  ambition,  nor  any  of  those  passions 
which  might  have  disturbed  my  enjoyment  of  that  vain  shadow  of 

*  Paris.— TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE. 

f  A  sisterhood  for  ladies  of  noble  rank.  —TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE. 


6  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

happiness  (worldly  happiness) ;  for  although  I  have  experienced 
poverty,  and  passed  through  conditions  very  diS'erent  to  that 
in  which  you  now  see  me,  I  was  contented  and  happy.  I  knew 
neither  weariness  nor  chagrin  ;  I  was  free.  I  went  to  the  Hotel 
d'Albret  or  to  the  Hotel  de  Richelieu,  sure  of  a  kind  reception, 
and  of  finding  my  friends  assembled  there,  or  else  of  attracting 
them  to  my  own  salon,  by  warning  them  that  I  would  remain 
at  home." 

Was  Mine.  Scarron  able  to  remain  free  from  all  sus- 
picion of  evil  during  all  these  long  years  of  widowhood 
and  semi-worldliness  1  Discussion  on  this  subject 
appears  to  me  mere  idle  curiosity,  and  I  leave  questions 
of  this  nature  to  more  daring  minds  ;  it  is  sufficient  for 
me,  and  it  otight  to  be  enough  for  all  whose  aim  it  is 
to  inquire  into  the  character  of  an  eminent  personage, 
that  Mme.  de  Maintenon  preserved  on  the  whole  a 
line  of  conduct  which  Avas  altogether  circumspect  and 
seemly.  The  most  serious  evidence  we  have  in  her 
disfavour  is  an  expression 'of  her  friend  Ninon,  on  the 
subject  of  M.  de  Villarceaux,  their  common  friend  ;  but 
in  regard  to  this  very  insinuation,  Ninon  admits  that 
she  does  not  know  how  far  things  went,  and  that 
Mme.  Scarron  always  seemed  to  her  "  too  awkward 
for  love."  Now  this  soxmds  well,  nay,  is  almost  a 
guarantee.  The  fact  is,  if  we  put  malice  aside,  that 
Mme.  Scarron,  during  these  her  years  of  greatest 
peril,  appears  never  to  have  been  moved  by  sentiment 
at  all,  never  to  have  been  excited  by  the  emotions  of  her 
heart,  and  to  have  been  restrained  by  two  curbs  which 
are  the  strongest  of  all,  namely,  her  love  of  consider- 
ation and  esteem,  which  from  her  own  account  was  her 
dominant  passion,  and  her  strict  and  practical  religion, 
from  which  she  never  swerved.  "  I  possess,"  she  has 
said,  "a  great  support  in  my  religion,  which  prevents 
me  doing  evil  things,  shields  me  from  all  frailties,  and 
makes  me  hate  all  that  might  draw  scorn  upon  me." 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON.  7 

I  can  find  no  reason  to  doubt  her  statement,  other  than 
the  unforeseen  circumstances  of  her  life. 

In  these  her  younger  days,  the  chief  trait  of  her 
character,  and  the  distinguishing  feature  of  her  social 
position,  may  be  thus  denned  :  she  was  one  of  those 
women,  who  as  soon  as  they  gain  a  little  advantage, 
have  the  wit  and  the  cleverness  to  make  such  good  use 
of  it,  that  they  succeed  in  every  way,  simply  by  making 
themselves  always  useful  and  necessary,  and  at  the 
same  time  pleasant  and  agreeable.  No  sooner  had  she 
the  entree  of  a  house  than  she  Avas  initiated  into  all  its 
private  arrangements  as  no  one  else  was,  and,  by  some 
subtle  vocation  she  possessed,  she  soon  unconsciously, 
and  without  having  any  right  to  such  a  position,  became 
the  moving  power  of  that  household.  In  fact,  intimacy 
established, \her  friends  knew  no  half  measures  ;  she 
became  at  once  the  soul,  the  charm,  the  fascination  of 
that  house. 

Such  was  Mine,  de  Maintenon  among  friends  like 
Mme.  d'Heudicomt  and  Mine,  de  Montchevreuil,  at 
the  Hotels  d'Albret  and  Richelieu  ;  considerate  and 
attentive  to  every  one,  and  so  obligingly  kind,  that 
Saint-Simon  has  very  justly  observed  upon  this  trait, 
and  has  described  it  to  us  in  his  own  inimitable  way  ; 
for,  with  all  his  unjust  exaggerations  and  inaccuracies, 
we  must  not  ignore  the  masterly  strokes  of  honest 
rectitude  in  what  he  says  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon ; 
but  the  explanation  he  gives  of  this  diligence  to  please 
is  more  harsh  than  is  quite  fair,  and  I  would  rather 
judge  from  what  Mme.  de  Maintenon  tells  us  herself. 
She  represents  herself  to  us  (in  her  correspondence)  as 
indastliooa  and  active,  up  at  six  o'clock  every  morning, 
busy  with  all  her  different  occupations,  because  she 
loved  them,  not  from  any  interested  motives ;  and  in 
matters  concerning  her  women  friends,  laying  herself 


8  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

out  to  oblige  them,  that  she  might  be  loved  by  them, 
and  distinguished  for  her  amiability,  and  also  from  an 
impulse  of  self-glorification. 

"In  my  tender  years,"  she  has  said,  "I  was  what  people 
call  a  good  child, — everybody  loved  me  ;  even  my  aunt's  servants 
were  charmed  with  me.  When  I  was  older,  I  was  placed  in 
various  convents :  you  know  how  much  I  was  loved  there  by 
my  teachers  and  companions,  and  always  for  the  same  reason, 
because  my  chief  thought  from  morning  to  night  was  of  how  I 
could  serve  them  or  oblige  them.  When  I  lived  with  that  poor 
cripple,  I  found  myself  in  the  world  of  fashion,  where  I  was 
sought  after  and  esteemed.  The  women  loved  me  because  I 
was  gentle  in  society,  and  because  I  was  more  occupied  about 
others  than  about  myself.  .  Men  waited  on  me  because  I  had 
the  beauty  and  the  grace  of  youth.  I  have  had  all  kinds  of 
experiences,  but  have  always  kept  ray  reputation  stainless. 
The  admiration  I  received  was  rather  a  general  friendship  or 
esteem  than  love.  I  did  not  desire  to  be  loved  by  any  one  in 
particular ;  I  wished  to  be  loved  by  everybody,  to  be  spoken 
of  with  admiring  respect,  to  be  popular,  and  especially  to  be 
approved  of  by  good  people  :  this  was  my  ideal. " 

And  again,  apropos  of  that  restraint  which  she  at  all 
times  imposed  on  herself,  and  of  that  subordination  of 
all  her  inclinations  to  which  she  forced  her  nature  : — 

"  But  that  cost  me  little  when  I  thought  of  those  praises,  of 
that  fame,  which  would  be  the  fruit  of  my  discipline.  That 
was  my  hobby.  I  was  not  concerned  about  riches  ;  I  was  above 
all  thought  of  self-interest ;  I  desired  honour." 

This  confession  gives  us  the  chief  key  to  Mine,  de 
Maintenon's  conduct  during  her  early  life  :  active, 
obliging,  insinuating  but  not  vulgar,  entering  with 
extreme  sensibility  into  the  trials  and  troubles  of  her 
friends,  and  anxious  to  aid  them,  not  from  pure  friend- 
ship, nor  from  true  sympathy,  nor  from  any  principle 
of  tender  devotion,  but  because  above  everything  else 
she  yearned  for  their  good  opinion,  she  of  necessity 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON.  9 

grasped  every  likely  means  to  advance  herself  higher 
in  their  esteem :  this,  at  least,  is  my  opinion  of  her. 
Material  and  positive  interest  always  was  of  secondary 
consideration  in  her.  eyes,  in  spite  of  her  straitened 
circumstances,  and  was  ever  subordinate  to  that  other 
moral  interest  founded  on  the  esteem  in  which  she  was 
held.  She  longed  to  be  specially  distinguished  and 
admired  by  those  among  whom  she  lived,  whoever 
they  were,  and  desired  that  it  might  be  said  of  her  :  "  As 
a  woman,  she  is  unique ! "  In  this  lay  all  her  coquetry, 
—a  coquetry  of  the  mind,  which  with  advancing  years 
became  to  her  an  ambition,  a  career.  Of  an  indefatig- 
able temperament  and  unwearying  patience,  yet  if  one 
made  a  demand  upon  her  in  any  direction  touching 
self-respect  and  honour,  she  would  accede  to  that  which 
would  have  been  barely  possible  to  another.  When  at 
a  later  period  she  had  become  the  most  indispensable 
person  at  the  court  of  Versailles,  the  companion  of  the 
king,  the  resource  of  princes,  the  person  whom  no  one 
in  all  that  royal  household  could  ignore  for  a  single 
moment,  she  showed  herself  capable  of  miraculous  self- 
restraint  and  forbearance.  Wholly  occupied  with  the 
affairs  of  those  she  did  not  love,  she  endured  her 
slavery  with  a  smiling  grace  which  never  failed.  "  For 
twenty-six  years,"  she  has  said,  "  I  never  displayed  the 
slightest  impatience  at  any  time." 

Latterly,  through  one  of  those  illusions  of  self-esteem, 
— illusions  which  are  very  natural, — she  imagined  her- 
self endowed  with  some  special  gift  which  fitted  her  for 
the  new  part  she  had  to  play, — a  gift  which  was  but 
the  result,  the  perfection,  and  the  crown  of  all  the  rfiles 
it  had  been  her  fate  to  perform  from  her  youth  up  :  she 
regarded  her  life  as  a  miracle.  She  had  been  so  often 
called  an  Esther,  that  she  believed  herself  one  in  reality, 
destined  by  Providence  to  sanctify  the  king,  even 


to  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

although  she  herself  should  be  a  martyr.  When  the 
ladies  of  Saint-Cyr  pressed  her,  during  her  last  retreat 
there,  to  write  her  life,  she  declined,  saying,  that  it  would 
be  a  story  full  of  marvellous  inner  experiences,  and 
peculiar  traits, — "  Only  saints  would  be  able  to  find 
pleasure  in  reading  it."  And  in  expressing  herself 
thus,  she  really  believed  that  she  spoke  humbly.  But 
it  is  not  necessary  to  be  a  saint  in  order  to  find  plea- 
sure in  those  secrets  of  the  heart  which  she  herself  has 
frankly  unveiled. 

Mine,  de  Montespan  was  still  the  declared  mistress 
of  the  king  when  she  met  Mme.  Scarron  at  the  house 
of  Mme.  d'Heudicourt,  their  common  friend,  and,  find- 
ing her  so  active,  such  a  devoted  friend,  so  discreet  and 
domesticated,  yet  with  an  honourable  amount  of  dignity, 
she  could  not  help  thinking  what  an  inestimable 
advantage  it-would  be  if  she  could  have  her  to  educate 
secretly  the  two  illegitimate  children  she  had  given 
to  Louis  XIV.  According  to  the  notions  of  the  time, 
.such  a  choice  was  a  species  of  honour.  Mme.  Scarron, 
however,  had  discernment  enough  to  perceive  the 
dubiousness  of  the  position,  and  very  justly  considered 
the  proposal  from  its  correct  aspect.  "  If  these  children 
are  the  king's  children,"  she  replied,  "  I  shall  be  very 
happy  ;  I  could  not  without  scruple  take  charge  of 
Mme.  de  Montespan's  children ;  so  the  king  must 
command  me, — this  is  all  I  have  to  say."  The  king 
commanded,  and  Mme.  Scarron  became  the  governess 
of  the  mysterious  children. 

Her  character  is  well  portrayed  in  the  singular  life 
she  lived  during  these  years  (1670-72).  She  took  a 
large  isolated  house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Vaugirard, 
and,  unknown  to  all  her  friends,  took  up  her  residence 
there,  devoting  herself  to  her  precious  charges,  directing 
their  early  education,  their  diet,  acting  as  housekeeper 


MADAME  DE  MA1NTENON.  ti 

and  nurse, — everything,  in  fact ;  and  at  the  same  time 
keeping  up  her  customs  of  morning  visits  to  her  friend?, 
as  if  nothing  at  all  uncommon  was  going  on  at  the  very 
doors  of  these  fashionable  friends ;  for  at  first  it  was 
necessary  that  no  one  should  suspect  that  there  was 
anything  unusual.  Gradually,  however,  the  secret  began 
to  be  less  carefully  guarded,  and  the  cloud  unrolled. 
The  king,  who  went  to  see  his  children,  then  got  to 
know  Mme.  Scarron  ;  but  the  impression  she  made 
on  him  at  first  was  not  favourable.  "  In  the  beginning 
I  was  very  displeasing  to  the  king  ;  he  looked  on  me  as 
a  clever  person,  to  whom  it  was  necessary  to  speak 
very  learnedly, — a  most  difficult  individual  in  every 
respect."  There  had  been  a  time  when  Mnie.  de 
Montespan  had  had  to  make  great  efforts  to  break  the 
ice,  and  to  insinuate  this  chosen  friend  into  the  good 
graces  of  the  king :  we  can  imagine  her  subsequent 
bitterness  and  wrath. 

Here  we  might  easily  exhaust  all  plausible  explana- 
tions and  apologies,  but  we  should  never  succeed  in 
proving  that  Mme.  de  Mainteuon  (for  by  this  time  she 
was  so  styled)  did  not  at  a  certain  period  play  a  double 
game :  installed  by  Mme.  de  Montespan,  apparently 
deeply  interested  in  her  passion  and  in  all  the 
troubles  connected  with  it,  writing  to  her,  even,  in  March 
1678,  "The  king  is  returning  to  you  covered  with 
glory,  and  I  am  infinitely  concerned  in  your  joy;'"' 
while  at  the  same  time  she  had  already  conceived 
projects  of  personal  ambition.  Probably  she  did  not 
all  at  once  entertain  the  idea  of  what  no  imagination 
could  have  conjectured  :  she  certainly  could  never  have 
imagined,  even  in  her  own  heart,  that  she  would  one 
day  become  not  the  secret  but  the  acknowledged  wife 
of  the  monarch  ;  she  only  felt  the  possibility  of  being 
able  to  exercise  great  influence  over  him,  and  she  kept 


12  MADAME  DE  MA  INTEND N. 

tin's  aim  in  view.  This  extraordinary  romance  was 
woven  thread  by  thread,  guided  by  the  most  patient 
and  adroit  skill.  As  soon  as  Mme.  de  Maintenon  had 
gained  a  footing  at  court,  she  began  to  try  to  make  it 
appear  that  she  was  not  made  for  court  life,  and  that 
she  remained  against  her  inclinations.  This  was  one 
of  her  stratagems,  one  which  probably  half  deceived 
even  herself.  In  her  ever-recurring  schemes  and  threats 
of  retirement,  I  can  find  no  better  comparison  for  her 
than  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who,  as  we  know,  was  always 
longing  to  exchange  the  world  for  a  hermitage,  to  flee 
from  it  back  to  his  American  savages. 

"  I  would  return  to  America,"  said  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 
"  if  I  were  not  ceaselessly  told  that  God  requires  me  to 
remain  where  I  am." 

Her  confessor  was  the  Abbe  Gobelin,  who  was  clever 
enough  to  say  to  her  very  early,  when  indicating  to  her 
the  place  (a  nameless  place,  and  not  even  a  vacant  one, 
for  the  queen  still  lived)  which  had  to  be  filled 
towards  Louis  XIV.,  "  God  wishes  you  there  ! "  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  was  persuaded,  and  remained,  and  nothing 
is  more  curious  than  to  look  at  her  between  the 
two  mistresses  of  the  king  (Mme.  de  Montespan  and 
Mme.  de  Fontanges),  reconciling  one,  counselling  the 
other ;  conciliating,  and,  without  seeming  to  do  so, 
meddling  with  their  affairs,  and  undermining  them, 
and  all  the  time  (for  this  was  her  method,  her  weak- 
ness), craving  pity  for  her  situation,  and  continually 
expressing  her  wish  to  retire.  Was  there  ever  more 
skilful  tact  than  this  ?  Never  did  a  woman's  tact  affect 
greater  modesty  or  more  refinement.  "Nothing  is 
more  clever  than  irreproachable  behaviour,"  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  has  said,  applying  the  expression  to  her  own 
conduct.  She  may  congratulate  herself  and  glorify 
herself  as  she  will,  but  I  shall  never  call  this  virtue. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTEXOX.  13 

In  the  midst  of  her  own  peculiar  and  interesting 
affairs,  she  continued  to  exercise  her  characteristic 
influence.  A  true,  warm-hearted  woman  would  not  for 
a  single  instant  have  accepted  or  endured  such  a  rdle. 
Mme.  de  Maintenon  spun  out  these  ambiguous  interests 
during  many  years. 

"The  king  has  three  mistresses,"  said  Mme.  de 
Montespan  to  her  furiously, — "  myself  in  name,  that  girl 
(Fontanges)  in  fact,  and  you  in  the  real  affections  of  his 
heart."  "  His  Majesty  visits  me  occasionally,  but  not 
by  my  desire  ;  he  retires  disconsolate,  but  never  hope- 
kss,"  replied  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  in  her  triumphant 
humility.  Or,  on  another  occasion,  she  said  :  "  I  send 
him  away  distressed  always,  but  never  despairing."  This 
Penelope's  web  was  woven  and  unwoven  continually 
for  about  eleven  years.  Let  us  try  to  imagine  the  skill 
and  invention,  the  wise  discretion,  which  preserved  for 
such  a  period  the  king's  attachment,  contenting  him, 
yet  not  extinguishing  his  passion  for  her  ! 

If,  on  a  little  consideration,  we  can  see  in  Mme.  de 
Maintenon,  this  woman  of  forty-five,  the  most  consum- 
mate schemer,  able  so  skilfully  to  carry  on  an  intrigue 
in  which  passion  and  sentiment  mingled  under  a  cloak 
of  virtue  and  religion,  we  must  also  recognise  the  in- 
tellectual talent  she  must  have  used,  the  conversational 
charm  by  which  she  amused,  fascinated,  and  evaded  a 
king  less  ardently  in  love  than  of  old,  and  who  is  rather 
astonished  to  find  himself  attracted  by  a  reluctance 
new  to  him.  When  the  queen  died  unexpectedly  in 
1683,  Mme.  de  Maintenon  saw  before  her  a  vista  of 
undreamt-of  ambition,  and  she  acted  in  this  crisis  as 
judiciously  as  she  had  heretofore  acted,  with  prudent 
calculation  disguised  by  supreme  modesty.  She  was  at 
last  married  secretly  to  the  king,  the  date  being,  it  is 
supposed,  1685.  There  were  three  or  four  persons, 


14  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

including  her  confessor,  who  in  private  called  hej 
"  Your  Majesty  ; "  this  satisfied  her  pride.  As  regarded 
all  other  people,  it  was  sufficient  for  her,  that  she  was  a 
personage,  distinct  though  not  definite,  occupying  a  place 
apart,  respected,  and  enjoying  her  greatness,  scarcely 
veiled  by  the  cloud  which  covered  it,  conscious  of  the 
fulfilment  of  the  marvellous  destiny  which,  as  Saint- 
Simon  says,  was  conspicuous  enough  under  its  trans- 
parent .mystery.  Here,  as  in  everything,  there  was  a 
mixture  of  glory  and  modesty,  of  reality  and  sacrifice, 
which  suited  her  well,  and  was  her  ideal  ambition. 

In  her  own  words,  which  express  so  well  her  clear 
understanding,  she  defines  her  position  on  one  occasion 
at  Saint-Cyr,  when,  some  one  seeing  her  fatigued  from 
unnecessary  exercise,  remarked  in  her  presence  that  she 
was  not  careful  enough  of  herself,  did  not  comport 
herself  as  other  great  ladies  :  "  That  is  because  I  am  not 
great,"  she  said  ;  "  I  am  only  exalted." 

Among  the  many  portraits  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 
the  one  in  my  opinion  which  gives  us  the  best  idea  of 
her  in  that  last  studied  attitude  of  veiled  greatness,  is  a 
portrait  [No.  2258]  which  may  be  seen  at  Versailles,  in 
one  of  the  Queen's  apartments.  She  is  more  than  fifty, 
dressed  in  black,  still  beautiful,  grave,  and  moderately 
stout,  her  high  and  noble  forehead  shaded  by  a  veil. 
Her  eyes  are  large  and  almond-shaped,  very  expressive, 
and  wonderfully  sweet.  The  nose  is  well  formed  and 
pleasing  ;  the  slightly  dilated  nostril  indicates  strength 
of  mind.  The  still  fresh  mouth  is  small  and  gracious, 
and  the  chin,  almost  a  double  chin,  well  rounded.  The 
sombre  dress  is  just  lightened  by  a  drapery  of  white 
lace  on  the  arms  and  shoulders.  A  high  stomacher 
hides  the  neck.  Such  was  Mme.  de  Maintenon, — almost 
a  queen, — imposing,  yet  modest  and  self-restrained, 
— she  who  has  said  of  herself :  "  My  condition  never 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON:  15 

shows  me  its  brilliant  aspect,  but  always  its  dark  and 
painful  side." 

In  that  exalted  position,  \vhat  service  has  Mme. 
de  Maintenon  rendered  to  Louis  XIV.  or  to  France  ? 
To  France,  none — if  we  except  the  day  that  she  re- 
quested Kacine  to  write  a  sacred  play  for  Saint-Cyr.* 
To  Louis  XIV.  himself  she  rendered  the  service  of 
weaning  him  from  love  intrigues  which  age  would  have 
made  discreditable ;  she  interested  herself  in  every- 
thing she  considered  necessary  for  his  best  welfare : 
BO  far  as  human  being  could,  she  filled  his  time,  amused 
him,  and,  as  far  as  circumstances  would  allow,  she  pro- 
vided hourly  occupation  for  him  ;  once  admitted  into 
the  royal  family  circle,  she  displayed  with  even  increased 
energy  and  exactitude  that  inexhaustible  adaptability 
which,  as  a  younger  woman,  had  made  her  so  useful 
to  the  Montchevreuils,  the  Heudicourts,  and  the  Riche- 
lieus.  She  was  indispensable  in  every  difficulty, 
advising,  consoling,  always  accessible  and  pleasant,  in 
that  royal  home,  amid  all  afflictions,  amid  all  State 
affairs.  This,  rather  than  any  political  part,  was  the 
influence  she  wielded,  although  she  may  have  inter- 
meddled too  much  once  or  twice  when  family  interests 
clashed,  as  in  the  preferment  of  the  Due  du  Maine. 
We  know  that  Louis  XIV.  was  possessed  of  sound 
judgment ;  but,  as  he  advanced  in  yeare,  that  justice 
remained  but  inactive,  un inventive,  and  was  exercised 
only  iu  affairs  submitted  to  him,  and  according  to 
the  terms  in  which  these  matters  were  laid  before  him 
on  the  Council  table  ;  he  took  no  trouble  to  search 
into  affairs.  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  equally  just,  was 
also  equally  circumscribed  ;  her  interests  were  con- 
fined to  social  matters,  or  things  of  a  purely  private 
or  family  nature,— she  neither  saw  nor  prognosticated 
*  Esther.— TR, 


1 6  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

outside  things.  To  sum  up,  neither  of  them  was  large- 
minded  ;  they  observed  little  outside  the  bounds  of 
their  own  horizon,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  this 
horizon  contracting  with  advancing  years,  this  king, 
with  all  his  sound  judgment,  committed  many  mistakes, 
which  this  woman  of  equal  rectitude  allowed  him  to 
commit,  nay,  even  approved. 

Mine,  de  Maintenon's  judgment  was  quite  propor- 
tionate to  the  king's  ;  but  his  judgment  inclined  to 
the  sombre  side,  whilst  hers  took  the  more  cheerful 
view. 

Did  she  love  Louis  XIV.  ?  It  would  be  cruel  to 
raise  any  absolute  doubt  on  this  point.  It  seems,  how- 
ever, that  of  the  two,  he  loved  her  the  most,  or,  at  all 
events,  she  was  the  more  necessary  to  him.  Dying, 
and  when  he  had  lost  consciousness,  we  know  that  she 
withdrew  before  he  had  ceased  to  breathe  ;  but,  before 
leaving  the  expiring  king,  she  desired,  her  confessor  to 
see  him,  and  to  tell  her  if  there  was  any  hope  of  his 
regaining  consciousness.  "  You  may  depart,"  said  the 
confessor  ;  "  you  are  no  longer  necessary  to  him."  She 
believed  him,  and  obeyed,  immediately  leaving  Versailles 
for  Saint-Cyr.  This  act,  for  which  she  has  been  blamed, 
proves  one  thing  only, — that  she  was  a  woman,  who, 
in  such  a  moment  of  supreme  separation,  trusted  the 
advice  of  her  confessor  rather  than  the  prompting  of 
her  own  heart.  Never  for  one  moment  in  her  whole 
life  did  Mine,  de  Maintenon  lose  control  of  her  heart ; 
there  lies  the'  secret  of  that  certain  degree  of  indiffer- 
ence she  inspires.  Her  nature  was  altogether  un- 
sympathetic. We  admit  that,  during  her  long  life,  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  secret  satisfactions  to  her  self-love, 
she  was  constantly  required  to  suffer,  to  restrain  her 
wishes.  The  descriptions  she  has  given  us  of  the 
almost  slavish  tortures  she  was  called  upon  to  endure, 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON.  17 

in  the  midst  of  all  her  grandeur,  are  true  pictures,  nn<l 
make  us  almost  pity  her.  From  the  moment  she 
awoke  till  the  moment  she  retired  to  rest,  she  had  no 
respite  ;  she  was  at  everybody's  service,  the  princes  to 
whom  she  sacrificed  herself,  the  king  who  would  not 
have  sacrificed  his  smallest  convenience  even  for  the 
sake  of  her  he  loved  and  honoured  more  than  all.  By 
no  means  young,  she  suffered  great  discomfort  from 
the  cold  draughts  in  these  vast  rooms,  but  she  could 
not  take  it  upon  herself  to  order  a  screen  to  be  placed 
behind  her  chair,  because  the  king  came  there,  and  any 
irregularity  in  the  coup  d'ceil  would  have  displeased  him : 
"Rather  perish,  than  destroy  the  general  symmetry." 
All  the  quarrels,  complications,  dissensions,  of  the  royal 
family  fell  on  her  shoulders.  "  I  have  not  been  racked 
by  four  horses,  but  by  four  princes,"  she  said  one  day, 
in  an  excess  of  fatigue  ;  and  she  was  obliged  -to  employ 
all  the  skill  on  which  she  piqued  herself  to  turn  aside 
all  such  annoyances  in  her  own  pleasant,  charming 
manner  ;  she  kept  only  the  thorns  for  herself.  Add  to 
all  this,  the  multitude  of  business  matters  which  passed 
through  her  hands,  especially  affairs  of  religion,  and 
conscientious  scruples  ;  for,  as  Saint-Simon  says,  she 
believed  herself  the  universal  abbess ;  she  used  to  call 
herself  the  bishop's  business  woman.  She  was  the 
target  for  demands  of  all  kinds,  although  she  evaded  aa 
much  as  she  could,  calling  herself  a  cipher,  a  nonentity, 
an  Agnes*  in  politics;  but  she  was  not  believed,  and 
importunate  petitions  arrived  from  all  parts,  intercept- 
ing even  her  passage  to  and  fro,  in  spite  of  the  pre- 
cautions she  took  to  render  approach  to  her  difficult. 
"Truly,  my  head  is  sometimes  almost  turned,"  she  said 
once,  when  she  had  nearly  broken  down ; "  and  I  believe 

•  Agnes,  in  Molic-re's  comedy,  L'ecole  des  Femm.es,  pretends  to 
be  wholly  unsophisticated. — TRANSLATOR'S  NOTB. 
B 


1 8  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

that  if  my  body  were  opened  after  my  death,  my  heart 
would  be  found  hard  and  twisted  like  that  of  M.  de 
Louvois."  Let  us  not  be  too  severe,  then,  in  our  judg- 
ment of  this  poor  heart,  which  she  lays  bare  to  us. 
She  is  right,  in  one  sense,  to  compare  herself  to  a 
Louvois,  to  great  statesmen,  ambitious  men  :  I  do  not 
think  any  one  has  ever  carried  the  spirit  of  perseverance 
further  than  she  did,  or  the  art  of  circumspection,  or 
the  power  of  self-restraint. 

Woman-like,  she  used  strong  language  to  describe 
that  weariness  of  worry  and  annoyance  which  she  was 
forced  to  endure,  and  obliged  to  conceal  with  a  smile. 
"  I  am  sometimes  gorged  with  worries,  as  one  might  say." 
We  recall  her  expression  as  she  one  day  stood  looking 
at  some  unhappy  little  fishes,  very  restless  and  un- 
comfortable in  their  clean  basin  of  clear  fresh  water : 
"  They  are  like  me,  they  yearn  after  their  obscurity." 

But  it  was  at  Saint-Cyr  that  Mine,  de  Maintenon 
especially  preferred  to  take  refuge  when  she  had  a 
short  interval  of  leisure,  to  hide  herself,  to  give  way  to 
her  feelings,  to  complain,  and  to  be  pitied,  to  reflect  on 
her  incomprehensible  elevation,  to  pose  as  a  victim 
bearing  the  weight  of  the  kingdom's  troubles.  "  Oh  ! 
say,"  she  would  exclaim,  "is  not  the  condition  of 
Jeanne  Brindelette  d'Avon  "  (some  little  peasant  pupil) 
"  preferable  to  mine  ? " 

Are  not  these  the  plaints  of  an  ambitious  woman, 
greedy  of  praise,  complaining  like  the  usurer  of  Horace, 
who,  after  extolling  the  charms  of  the  country,  quickly 
returns  to  town,  and  plans  his  money  out  at  larger 
interest  ? 

Listening  to  these  royal  wailings  from  Mme.  de 
Maintenon's  lips,  and  calling  to  mind  her  early 
prospects,  we  sometimes  find  ourselves  quoting,  with 
a  smile,  from  Tartufe,  "  The  poor  woman  !  the  poor 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON,  19 

irnwan  ! "  And,  after  we  have  listened  to  her  a  little 
longer,  we  end  by  saying  with  her  seriously,  "  Yes,  poor 
woman,  indeed ! "  Towards  the  end,  it  was  apparent 
that  she  required  such  pity,  for  physical  fatigue  over- 
balanced all  else,  and  the  death  of  Louis  XIV.  was,  to 
a  certain  degree,  a  relief  to  her. 

There  are  two  things  for  which,  in  the  eyes  of 
posterity,  she  must  ever  be  commendable :  first,  the 
founding  of  Saint-Cyr  ;  and  secondly,  her  talent  as  an 
excellent  writer.  Saint-Cyr  would'  require  a  separate 
study.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  stamped  it  with  her  own 
individuality,  and  she  there  shines  as  if  set  in  a  frame- 
work made  expressly  for  her.  It  was  there  she  was 
able  to  satisfy  her  craving  to  train  and  educate  the 
young  around  her,— Minerva-like  or  Mentor- like  tastes, 
which  developed  more  and  more  as  years  advanced  ; 
she  was  also  able  there  to  unbend  to  tendeniess.  It  was 
her  own  scheme,  her  cherished,  almost  maternal  work. 
"  Nothing  is  dearer  to  me  than  my  children  of  Saint- 
Cyr  ;  /  love  them  all,  even  the  very  dust  they  make"  It 
is  always  so  beautiful,  so  noble  a  thought  to  found 
a  school  destined  to  educate  and  train,  in  pure  and 
regular  principles,  the  children  of  the  poor,  that  we 
hesitate  to  express  even  the  most  respectful  criti- 
cism. Louis  XV.,  however,  who  was  not  deficient 
in  common  sense,  was  severe  in  his  judgment  of  Saint- 
Cyr.  "  Mme.  de  Maintenon,"  he  said,  "  with  the  most 
excellent  intentions,  made  a  mistake.  These  girls  are 
brought  up  in  such  a  way,  that  it  will  be  necessary  to 
make  them  all  ladies  of  the  palace,  or  else  they  will 
be  useless  and  unhappy."  It  would  indeed  be  sur- 
prising, if,  in  an  institution  formed  under  the  sole 
influence  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  some  vain-glorious 
pride  had  not  slipped  in.  Let  it,  however,  suffice  now 
to  remember,  to  the  honour  of  Saint-Cyr,  that  it  waa 


20  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON. 

the  cradle  of  Esther  and  Athalie;  its  birth  was  the 
occasion  of  these  immortal  works.* 

Yet  it  is  as  a  writer  that  we  accord  to  Mine,  de 
Maintenon  all  enduring  reputation.  There  is  no  com- 
plete and  altogether  accurate  edition  of  her  Letters, 
but  what  we  have  allows  us  to  establish  a  judgment, 
and  confirms  what  Saint-Simon  has  so  aptly  said 
of  her  "  gentle,  just,  expressive  language,  naturally 
eloquent  and  concise."  This  brevity,  or  happy  concise- 
ness of  style,  is  peculiar  to  Mine,  de  Maintenon,  or  is 
shared  only  by  Mme.  de  la  Fayette.  Neither  indulged 
in  the  tedious,  careless,  irregular  style  common  to  all 
women  (who  were  not  Mme.  de  Sevignd)  in  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  deserves  much 
of  the  credit  of  the  reformation  in  style  which  the  eigh- 
teenth century  inherited.  "  I  shall  correct  the  faults  in 
style  which  you  remark  in  my  letters,"  wrote  the  Due 
du  Maine  to  her ;  "  but  I  believe  that  long  sentences 
will  mean  with  me  long  imperfections.''  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon  spoke  faultlessly.  Words  dropped  from  her  lips 
as  from  her  peri,  correct,  apt,  with  never  a  syllable  of 
discord  ;  one  word  added  might  make  a  perfect  sentence 
dry  and  .stiff.  Mine,  du  Deffand,  who  in  literature  is  of 
the  same  school,  has  very  ably  expressed  the  effect 
of  Mine,  de  Maintenon's  Letters  ;  they  could  not  be 
better  defined  : — 

"Her  Letters  are  thoughtful,"  she  says;  "there  is  much 
intellect  expressed  in  simple  language  ;  but  they  are  not  anim- 
ated, and  they  are  far  from  being  as  cheerful  and  pleasing  as 
those  of  Mme.  de  Sevigne :  the  latter  are  all  passionate  feeling 
and  energy  ;  she  takes  her  part  in  everything,  is  interested  in, 
affected  by  everything.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  is  the  extreme 
opposite  :  she  tells  of  the  greatest  events,  in  which  she  played 
her  part,  with  the  most  perfect  calmness  ;  one  can  see  that  she 

*  fly  Racine.— TR. 


MADAME  DE  MAINTENON.  21 

loves  neither  the  king,  nor  her  friends,  nor  relations,  nor  even 
her  position  ;  devoid  of  sentiment  and  imagination,  she  has 
formed  110  illusions,  she  knows  the  intrinsic  value  of  every- 
thing ;  she  is  tired  of  life,  and  says,  '  Only  death  will  put  an 
end  to  vexation  and  unhappiness.'  .  .  .  The  result  of  my  read- 
ing is,  that  I  have  a  high  estimation  of  her  virtue,  and  little  of 
her  heart,  and  no  liking  for  her  person  ;  but  I  repeat,  I  still 
persist  in  believing  that  she  is  not  false." 

She  does  not  indeed  appear  to  be  false  ;  in  her  Letters 
she  is  only  a  little  too  discreet  and  cautious.  In  order 
to  form  a  correct  idea  of  Mine,  de  Maintenon,  it  is 
advisable,  in  reading  her  Letters,  to  supply  them  with 
a  certain  sprightliness  of  wisdom,  a  peculiar  grace, 
which  characterized  her  to  the  last,  in  the  midst  of  her 
austerity,  and  which  was  part  of  her  desire  to  please 
people  when  beside  them,  but  which  was  not  strong 
enough  to  reflect  in  her  written  words. 

I  have,  however,  only  approached  the  subject  of 
Mme.  de  Maintenon  ;  she  is  a  study  one  must  not  pro- 
ceed too  hurriedly  with  :  I  shall  hope  to  return  to  it 
some  day,  when  I  discuss  her  along  with  Mine,  dcs 
Ursins. 


MADAME    DE    SEVIGN& 


CRITICS,  and  particularly  foreign  critics,  who  in  these 
later  years  have  been  the  most  severe  judges  of  our  two 
literary  centuries,  agree  in  acknowledging  that  the 
features  which  most  distinguished  them,  the  influences 
which  we  find  reflected  in  a  thousand  ways,  lending 
brilliancy  and  &lat  to  these  epochs,  was,  first,  the 
wit  of  social  intercourse,  the  knowledge  of  the  world 
and  of  men,  the  shrewd  intelligence  displayed  in 
courtesy  and  in  ridicule,  the  ingenious  delicacy  of 
sentiment,  the  piquant  grace  and  the  refined  courtli- 
ness of  the  language.  And,  indeed,  with  certain  reserva- 
tions, and  not  including  such  names  as  Bossuet  and 
Montesquieu,  these  are  the  most  marked  characteristics 
of  French  literature  as  compared  to  all  other  European 
literature.  This  honour,  which  has  almost  been  made 
into  a  reproach  against  our  nation,  is  fertile  enough, 
and  fair  enough,  for  those  who  are  able  to  understand 
and  interpret  it. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  our 
civilisation  (and  consequently,  our  literature  and  our 
language)  was  immature  and  uncertain.  Europe,  just 
emerging  from  religious  difficulties,  and  still  influenced 

by  the  effects  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  had  laboriously 

" 


MADAME  DE  SEV1GNE.  23 

created  a  new  order  of  politics.  France  hud  exhausted 
herself  with  civil  discord.  In  court  circles  there  were 
salons  and  ruelles*  and  the  wits  who  frequented  them 
were  already  the  fashion  ;  but  as  yet  nothing  great  or 
original  had  been  produced  by  them,  and  people  feasted 
to  satiety  on  Spanish  romances  or  Italian  sonnets  and 
pastorals.  It  was  not  till  after  Richelieu's  time,  after 
the  Fronde,  under  the  queen-mother,t  and  Mazarin,  that 
suddenly,  from  the  midst  of  the  fetes  of  Saint-Hande" 
and  Vaux,  from  the  salons  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet, 
or  from  the  antechambers  of  the  young  king,J  arose  as 
if  by  miracle,  three  great  intellects,  three  geniuses, 
diversely  gifted,  but  all  endowed  with  pure  original 
talent,  perfect  sympathy  of  taste,  and  a  happy  gift  of 
language,  embellished  by  natural  grace  and  delicate 
refinement,  destined  to  usher  in  an  epoch  of  such  glory 
and  brilliancy  as  has  never  been  surpassed.  Moliere, 
La  Fontaine,  and  Mme.  de  Sevigne  belong  to  a  literary 
generation  which  preceded  that  of  which  Racine  and 
Boileau  were  the  chief  lights  ;  and  they  are  distin- 
guished from  these  latter  by  several  marked  features, 
which  belong  as  distinctly  to  the  nature  of  their  genius 
as  to  the  date  of  their  appearance.  We  feel  that  in  the 
place  they  hold,  as  in  their  peculiar  turn  of  wit,  they 
have  much  more  in  common  with  the  France  which 
preceded  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  with  the  old 
language,  and  the  old  French  humour  ;  their  education, 

*  Ruelle,  a  word  in  daily  us'i  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
probably  reqviires  some  explanation  in  the  present  day.  The 
bed,  a  magnificently  adorned  structure,  occupied  the  middle  of 
one  end  of  the  room  ;  near  the  foot,  and  dividing  the  apartment, 
stood  a  gilt  balustrade,  such  as  may  still  be  seen  in  the  room  of 
Louis  XIV.  at  Versailles.  Each  side  of  the  bed  within  that 
rtsorved  space  was  called  the  ritelle. — TR. 

f  Anne  of  Austria.— TK.  J  Louis  XTV.— TR. 


24  MADAME  DE  S&VIGN&. 

and  their  literary  knowledge  altogether,  belongs  more 
to  that  epoch,  and  if  they  are  less  appreciated  by 
foreigners  than  certain  subsequent  writers,  this  is  due 
in  reality  to  the  particular  and  indefinable  charm 
which  for  us  exists  in  the  purity  of  their  style  and 
diction.  Therefore,  at  the  present  time,  we  are  reason- 
ably anxious  to  revise  and  refute  many  of  the  judgments 
and  opinions  which,  during  the  last  twenty  years, 
have  been  set  for  the  professors  of  the  Athenaeum  ; 
and  we  declare  relentless  war  against  many  who  have 
been  greatly  overrated,  and  uphold  those  immortal 
writers  who  first  gave  to  French  literature  its  origin- 
ality, and  encouraged  those  characteristic  features  which, 
up  to  the  present  day,  assure  for  it  a  distinct  place 
among  all  other  literatures.  Moliere  drew  from  the 
moving  game  of  life  the  vices  and  eccentricities  of  man- 
kind ;  he  depicts  everything  which  could  possibly  be 
worthily  expressed  in  poetry.  La  Fontaine  and  Mine, 
de  Sevigne",  in  a  narrower  sphere,  had  each  in  their  way 
an  exquisitely  true  preception  of  all  which  concerned  the 
spirit  of  their  time.  La  Fontaine  represented  nature, 
Mme.  de  Sevigne  was  more  the  interpreter  of  society  ; 
and  this  delicate  feeling  they  have  both  so  clearly 
expressed  in  their  writings,  that  quite  naturally  we 
compare  them  with,  and  scarcely  rank  them  below, 
their  illustrious  contemporary.  At  present  we  desire 
to  speak  only  of  Mme.  de  Sevigne",  and  it  seems  as  if 
nothing  new  could  be  said  of  her, — details  regarding 
her  are,  in  fact,  almost  exhausted  ;  but  we  think  that 
hitherto,  in  studying  her,  she  has  been  too  much  isolated, 
just  as  La  Fontaine  was  for  a  longtime,  and  to  him 
she  bears  a  strong  resemblance.  At  this  distance  of 
time,  when  the  society  of  which  she  represents  the  most 
brilliant  aspect  is  distinctly  and  harmoniously  revealed 
to  our  eyes,  it  is  easier,  as  at  the  same  time  it  becomes 


HAD  A  ME  DE  SEVIGNE.  25 

more  necessary,  to  assign  to  Mme.  de  SeVign£  her  rank, 
her  importance,  and  especially  her  relation  to  other 
writers  ;  this,  and  the  difference  of  tlie  times,  has  not 
been  sufficiently  borne  in  mind  by  themanydistinguished 
writers  of  our  own  day,  who  are  disposed  to  judge  with 
equal  carelessness  and  severity  one  of  the  most  charming 
geniuses  who  ever  existed.  We  shall  be  glad  if  this  sketch 
help  to  dissipate  some  of  those  unjust  prejudices. 

The  excesses  of  the  Regency  have  been  much  censured  ; 
but  before  the  regency  of  Philippe  d'Orleans  there  was 
another  regency,  not  less  dissolute,  and  still  more  atroci- 
ous, by  reason  of  the  cruelties  with  which  it  is  associated, 
— a  kind  of  hideous  transition  state  between  the  flood  of 
abuses  perpetrated  by  Henri  III.  and  those  of  Louis  XV. 
The  low  morality  of  the  Ligue,  which  had  smouldered 
under  Henri  IV.  and  Richelieu,  revived  again,  being  no 
longer  restrained.  Licentiousness  became  as  excessive 
as  it  had  been  in  the  days  of  the  miynons,  or  as  it  was 
later  in  the  time  of  the  roues;  but  what  makes  this 
epoch  most  resemble  the  sixteenth  century,  and  dis- 
tinguishes it  from  the  eighteenth,  is  chiefly  the  assassina- 
tions, poisonings,  and  other  Italian  vices  due  to  the 
influences  of  the  Medicis,  and  the  insane  rage  for  duel- 
ling —  a  heritage  of  the  civil  wars.  Such,  to  the  im- 
partial reader,  appears  the  regency  of  Anne  of  Austria, 
and  such  was  the  dark  and  bloody  basis  'on  which,  one 
fine  morning,  loomed  the  Fronde,  which  it  is  considered 
proper  to  call  une  plaisanterie  d  main  armtfe.*  The 
conduct  of  the  women  of  the  time,  those  most  distin- 
guished by  their  birth,  their  beauty,  and  their  wit, 
seems  incredible,  and  we  are  forced  to  believe  that 
historians  have  slandered  them.  But  as  excess  always 
produces  its  contrary,  the  small  number  of  them  who 
escaped  corruption  embraced  sentimental  metaphysics, 
*  The  trick  of  an  armed  hand. 


26  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE. 

and  became  Pre'cieuses.*  The  Hotel  de  Rambouilk't 
was  tlie  abode  of  good  morals  within  the  pale  of  the 
highest  society ;  whilst  its  good  taste  must  now  be 
admitted,  since  it  has  produced  Mme.  de  Sevigne. 

Mile.  Marie  de  Rabutin-Chantal  was  the  daughter 
of  the  Baron  de  Chantal,  whose  uncontrolled  passion 
for  duelling  led  him,  one  Easter  Day,  to  quit  the 
Holy  Table  to  go  and  act  as  second  to  the  famous 
Comte  de  Bouteville.  Brought  up  by  her  uncle, 
the  good  Abbe  de  Coulanges,  she  early  received  very 
solid  instruction,  and  learnt,  under  Chapelain  and 
Menage,  the  Latin,  Italian,  and  Spanish  languages.  At 
eighteen  she  married  the  Marquis  de  Sevigne",  little 
worthy  of  her  ;  who,  after  grossly  neglecting  her, 
was  killed  in  a  duel  in  1651.  Widowed  at  five-and- 
twenty,  the  mother  of  a  son  and  daughter,  Mme.  de 
Sevigne  had  no  idea  of  marrying  again  ;  she  loved  her 
children,  especially  her  daughter,  almost  foolishly,  and 
other  persons  remained  unknown  to  her.  She  was  fair 
and  gay,  a  smiling  picture  of  virtuous  womanhood  ;  the 
brilliancy  of  her  wit  gaA'e  lustre  to  her  expressive  eyes, 
shone  from  her  ever-changing  pupils,  and,  as  she  her- 
self said,  was  luminous  even  behind  the  curtain  of  her 
transparent  eyelids.  She  became  a  Pre'cieuse ;  she  went 
into  society,  was  beloved,  courted,f  an  object  of  un- 
heeded passion,  brave  enough  to  preserve  as  friends 

*  A  term  of  eulogy  bestowed  upon  the  circle  of  intellect  and 
beauty  which  surrounded  the  Marquise  de  Rainbouillet,  who 
herself  received  from  her  admirers  the  title  of  the  Incomparable 
Arthenice.  To  be  styled  a  PrScieuse  was  a  high  mark  of  dis- 
tinction, although  afterwards  ridiculed  by  Moliere's  "  Pr^cieuses 
ridicules." 

t  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  wrote  to  her  :  "  Your  presence  adds  to 
diversion,  and  diversion  enhances  your  beauty.  In  short,  joy 
is  the  natural  state  of  your  soul,  and  sorrow  is  more  unnatural 
in  you  than  in  any  other." 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  27 

those  she  would  not  listen  to  as  lovers.  Her  cousin 
Bussy,  her  tutor  Menage,  the  Prince  of  Conti,  brother 
of  the  Grand  Conde,Fouquet,  the  powerful  Surintendant, 
all  sighed  in  vain  for  her,  although  she  remained 
courageously  faithful  to  the  latter  in  his  disgrace  ;  and 
when  she  tells  M.  de  Pomponnel  of  his  prosecution,  we 
must  observe  how  tenderly  she  speaks  of  "our  dear 
unfortunate."  Still  young  and  beautiful  and  unassum- 
ing, she  appeared  in  society  only  as  the  devoted  mother, 
caring  for  no  greater  happiness  than  that  of  exhibiting 
her  daughter  and  seeing  her  admired.*  Mile,  de 
Sevigne'  took  part  from  1663  in  the  brilliant  ballets 
of  Versailles ;  and  Benserade,  court  poet,  who  then 
held  at  court  the  place  which  Racine  and  Boileau  took 
after  1672,  wrote  more  than  one  madrigal  in  honour 
of  that  shepherdess  and  nymph,  who  was  called  by 
her  idolizing  mother  the  loveliest  maiden  in  France. 
In  1669,  M.  de  Grignan  obtained  her  hand  in  marriage, 
and  sixteen  months  afterwards  she  accompanied  him 
to  Provence,  where  he  acted  as  lieutenant-general 
during  the  absence  of  M.  de  Vendome.  From  hence- 
forth separated  from  her  daughter,  whom  she  saw 
only  at  long  irregular  intervals,  Mine,  de  Sdvigne 
sought  to  make  her  loneliness  less  irksome  by  a  constant 
correspondence,  which  lasted  till  her  death  (in  1690), 
and  which  extends  over  twenty-five  years,  excepting 
the  gaps  which  are  filled  in  by  the  transient  reunions 

"  There  is  a  beautiful  portrait  of  Mme.  de  Sevigne  in  her 
youth  by  the  Abbe  Arnauld,  who  says  in  his  Memoires  that  he 
was  introduced  to  the  illustrious  Mme.  de  Sevigne.  ...  "I  can 
fancy  that  I  see  her  still,"  he  says,  "  as  she  appeared  to  me  the 
first  time  I  had  the  honour  of  beholding  her.  She  arrived  in  an 
open  chariot,  on  either  side  of  her  sat  her  son  and  daughter,  all 
three  such  as  poets  paint, — Latona  with  the  young  Apollo  and  the 
chilil  Diana, — so  striking  was  the  beauty  of  mother  and  children." 


28  MADAME  DE  S&VIGN&. 

of  the  mother  and  daughter.  Before  this  separation 
\ve  have  only  a  very  few  letters  of  Mine,  de  S^vigni's 
addressed  to  her  cousin  Bussy,  and  some  to  M.  de 
Pomponne  about  the  prosecution  of  Fouquet.  It  is, 
therefore,  only  from  this  date  that  we  possess  any 
intimate  knowledge  of  her  private  life,  her  habits,  her 
favourite  books,  and  even  minute  details  of  the  society 
she  lived  in,  and  of  which  she  was  the  soul. 

And  from  the  very  first  pages  of  this  correspondence 
we  find  ourselves  in  quite  a  different  world  from  that 
of  the  Fronde  and  the  Regency  ;  we  recognise  that 
what  is  called  French  society  is  at  last  constituted. 
Doubtless  (and  beside  the  numerous  me'moires  of  the 
time,  the  anecdotes  related  by  Mme.  de  Sevigne"  herself 
are  our  authority),  horrible  licentiousness,  gross  orgies, 
were  indulged  in  by  the  young  noblesse,  on  whom  Louis 
XIV.  imposed,  as  the  price  of  his  favour,  the  exercise 
of  politeness,  elegance,  and  dignity  ;  no  doubt,  under 
this  brilliant  superficiality,  this  gilding  of  the  Carrousel, 
there  was  quite  enough  inherited  vice  ready  to  manifest 
itself  anew  in  another  regency,  especially  when  the 
bigotry  of  the  last  years  of  this  reign  should  have 
caused  it  to  ferment.  But  at  least  outward  propriety 
was  observed  ;  public  opinion  began  to  disparage  things 
ignoble  or  dissolute.  Moreover,  as  disorder  and  vicious 
passion  became  less  scandalous,  decency  and  refined  wit 
gained  in  simplicity.  The  title  Pr&ieuse  went  out  of 
fashion,  or  was  remembered  with  a  smile.  People  no 
longer  declaimed  in  private,  and  commented  on  the 
sonnet  of  Job,  or  of  Uranie  on  the  map  of  Tendre  *  or  on 
the  Roman  character  ;  but  they  conversed,  Jhey  talked 
over  the  news  of  the  court,  conversed  of  the  siege  of 
Paris,  or  of  the  wars  of  Guienne  :  the  Cardinal  de  Ret/, 

*  In  the  love  stories  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Tendre  v;aa 
the  name  given  to  an  allegorical  Kingdom  of  Love. — Til. 


MADAME  DE  SEl'IGNE.  29 

described  his  travels ;  M.  dela  Rochefoucauld  moralized  ; 
Mine,  de  la  Fayette  made  sentimental  reflections  ;  and 
Mine,  de  Sevigne"  interrupted  them  all  to  quote  some 
clever  saying  of  her  daughter,  some  roguish  trick  of  her 
son,  some  absent-mindedness  of  the  good  D'Hacqueville 
or  of  M.  de  Brancas. 

In  1829,  with  our  regular  habits  and  occupations,  we 
have  some  difficulty  in  faithfully  picturing  to  ourselves 
this  life  of  leisure  and  conversation.  The  world  goes 
on  so  fast  in  our  time,  and  so  many  things  are  in  turn 
brought  upon  the  scene,  that  it  takes  us  all  our  time  to 
behold  and  apprehend  them.  Our  days  are  passed  in 
study,  our  evenings  in  serious  discussions,  friendly 
intercourse,  and  conversation.  The  nobility  of  our  day, 
which  has  preserved  most  of  the  leisurely  habits  of  the 
two  last  centuries,  seems  to  have  been  able  to  do  this 
only  at  the  cost  of  remaining  strangers  to  the  thoughts 
and  customs  of  the  present  time.*  At  the  date  of 
which  we  write,  far  from  there  being  any  difficulty  in 
following  the  literary,  political,  or  religious  spirit  of 
the  day,  it  was  the  correct  mode  and  purpose  of  life  ;  a 
glance  of  the  eye  was  sometimes  enough,  an  aside  whilst 
indulging  in  familiar  friendly  talk.  Conversation  had 
not  then  become,  as  in  the  eighteenth  century,  in  the 
open  salons,  under  the  presidency  of  Fontenelle,  an 
occupation,  a  business  full  of  pretension  ;  no  one  speci- 
ally aimed  at  making  clever  hits,  or  at  ostentatiously 
displaying  his  eloquent  knowledge  of  geometry, 
philosophy,  or  sentiment ;  but  people  conversed  of 

*  Since  these  pages  were  written,  I  have  frequently  had 
occasion  to  remark  to  myself,  and  with  great  pleasure,  that  this 
decay  of  conversational  power  in  France  has  been  rather 
exaggerated  ;  no  doubt,  it  is  absent  as  a  general  rule  in  society, 
but  there  are  still  remnants  of  it,  an  after-glow,  which  is  all  the 
more  enjoyable  that  it  seems  the  revival  of  a  lost  art. 


30  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE, 

themselves,  of  others,  of  little  or  of  nothing  at  all.  It 
was,  as  Mine,  tie  Sevigne  said,  endless  conversation. 
"After  dinner,"  she  writes  in  one  letter  to  her 
daughter,  "  we  went  and  chatted  in  the  most  pleasant 
wood  in  the  world  ;  we  remained  there  till  six  o'clock, 
engaged  in  every  variety  of  converse,  kindly,  pleasing, 
amiable,  and  affectionate,  both  for  you  and  for  me, 
so  that  I  was  much  impressed."  In  the  midst  of  this 
impulsive  society,  so  simple  and  easy,  and  so  gracefully 
animated,  a  visit,  a  letter  received,  was  an  event  from 
which  much  pleasure  might  be  extracted,  and  in  which 
every  one  eagerly  took  part.  The  most  trifling  things 
were  valued  according  to  the  mode  or  the  form  in  which 
they  were  presented  ;  this  was  the  art  which  uncon- 
sciously and  carelessly  pervaded  life.  Let  us  recall  to  our 
minds  the  visit  Mme.  de  Chaulnes  paid  to  the  Rochers. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  Mme.  de  SeVigne  was 
curiously  careful  of  her  letters,  and  that,  in  writing 
them,  she  thought,  if  not  of  posterity,  at  least  of  the 
people  of  her  time  whose  approbation  she  sought. 
This  is  untrue  ;  the  time  of  Voiture  and  of  Balxac  was 
already  far  distant.  She  usually  wrote  with  great 
fluency,  allowing  her  pen  to  run  on,  on  all  kinds  of 
subjects ;  and,  when,  pressed  for  time,  scarcely  ever 
re-reading  what  she  wrote.  "  Truly,"  she  has  said, 
"between  friends  we  nmst  let  our  pens  wander  at 
will  ;  mine  always  has  a  loose  rein."  But  there  are 
days  when  she  has  more  leisure,  and  when  she  fuels 
more  in  the  mood ;  then  quite  naturally  she  arranges 
and  composes  her  letters  with  almost  as  much  care  as 
La  Fontaine  bestows  on  one  of  his  fables. 

Such  was  the  letter  to  M.  de  Coulanges,  on  the 
marriage  of  Mademoiselle  ;  such  the  one  about  the 
unfortunate  Picard,  who  was  dismissed  because  he 
refused  to  join  in  the  haymaking.  Letters  such  as 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  31 

these,  brilliant  as  works  of  art,  and  in  which  there  are  not 
too  many  little  secrets  nor  slanders,  made  a  sensation  in 
society  ;  every  one  wished  to  read  them.  "  I  cannot  help 
telling  you  what  happened  this  morning,"  writes  Mme.  de 
Coulanges  to  her  friend  :  "  I  was  told  that  one  of  Mme. 
de  Thianges'  pages  had  called ;  I  gave  orders  for  his 
admission.  This  is  what  he  had  to  say  to  me  :  '  Madame, 
my  mistress  begs  you  to  send  her  two  letters  of 
Mme.  de  Se"vign6's,  the  letter  du  cheval  and  the  one  of 
the  Prairie'  I  told  the  page  that  I  would  take  them 
to  Mme.  de  Thianges,  and  so  got  rid  of  him.  Your 
letters  are  as  famous  as  they  deserve  to  be,  as  you  see. 
They  certainly  are  delicious,  and  you  are  like  your 
letters."  Correspondence,  therefore,  like  conversation, 
was  of  great  importance  ;  but  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  was  composed,  they  were  spontaneous  utterances 
of  heart  and  mind.  Mme.  de  Sevigne  constantly  praises 
her  daughter's  letters.  "Your  ideas  are  beautiful,  your 
sentences  incomparable,"  she  says  ;  and  she  tells  how 
she  reads  here  and  there  from  them,  chosen  passages,  to 
those  she  considers  worthy  to  hear  them, — "  Sometimes  I 
also  read  a  little  bit  from  them  to  Mme.  de  Villars,  but 
she  is  so  much  touched  by  the  tender  parts  that  tears 
come  into  her  eyes." 

m  If  the  unaffected  simplicity  of  Mme.  de  Sevigne's. 
letters  has  been  disputed,  so  also  has  the  sincerity  of 
her  love  for  her  daughter  been  doubted ;  and,  in  judging 
of  this  affection,  allowance  has  not  been  made  for  the 
time  she  lived  in,  and  we  are  apt  to  forget  that,  in  that 
luxurious  age,  passions  were  like  whims,  and  over- fond- 
ness often  became  a  passion.  She  idolized  her  daughter, 
and  at  once  made  this  understood  in  society.  Arnauld 
d'Andilly  called  her,  on  this  account,  a  pretty  pagan. 
Separation  but  increased  her  tenderness ;  it  almost 
entirely  filled  her  thoughts,  and  the  inquiries  and 


32  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE, 

compliments  of  all  her  friends  continually  reverted  to 
this  absorbing  subject:  this  cherished  and  almost 
unique  affection  of  her  heart  at  length  became 'a  very 
part  of  her  demeanour,  as  necessary  in  her  deportment 
as  the  fan  she  carried.  After  all,  Mme.  de  Sevigne 
was  perfectly  sincere  and  open,  and  despised  pretence, 
a  real  woman, — an  expression  she  would  doubtless 
have  invented  for  her  daughter,  had  not  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld  already  discovered  it  for  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  ;  she,  however,  pleased  herself  by  adopting  it 
for  her  she  loved.  When  we  have  thoroughly  analyzed 
and  examined  in  every  light  this  boundless  inother- 
love,  we  simply  return  to  M.  de  Pomponne's  opinion 
and  explanation :  "  Mme.  de  Sdvigne  appears  to 
have  loved  Mme.  de  Grignan  passionately.  Would 
you  like  to  know  the  real  fact  of  the  matter  ?  Well, 
she  loves  her  passionately."  It  would,  in  truth,  be  very 
ungrateful  to  carp  at  Mme.  de  Sevigne  on  account  of 
this  innocent  and  most  legitimate  passion,  to  which  we 
are  indebted  for  our  power  of  accompanying,  step  by 
step,  this  most  brilliantly  clever  woman  during  twenty- 
six  years  of  the  most  agreeable  epoch  of  French  social 
history.* 

La  Fontaine,  nature's  painter,  does  not  altogether 
neglect  and  ignore  society ;  he  frequently  depicts  it 
with  subtle  malice.  Mme.  de  Sevigne,  on  her  part,  loved 

*  M.  Walckenaer  aptly  remarks  in  his  Memoires  of  Mme.  de 
Sevignd  :  "  She  in  whom  the  maternal  sentiment  was  so  strongly 
developed,  never  had  the  opportunity  of  possessing  the  filial 
sentiment,  having  been  so  early  orphaned.  All  the  love  of  her 
heart  was  held  in  reserve,  to  be  showered  on  her  daughter. 
Widowed  in  the  spring-time  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  she  seems 
never  to  have  cared  for  any  of  those  who  courted  her.  What  a 
treasury  of  love !  And  her  daughter  inherited  it  all,  with  its 
accumulated  interest." 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  33 

nature ;  she  delighted  in  the  country,  and  made  long 
sojourns  at  Livry  with  the  Abbe"  de  Coulanges,  or  on  her 
own  estate,  the  Rochers,  in  Brittany  ;  and  it  is  very  in- 
teresting to  observe  her  impressions  of  nature.  We  at 
once  perceive  that,  like  our  good  fabulist,  she  had  early 
read  L'Astree,  and  we  find  traces  of  girlish  dreams  under 
the  mythological  shades  of  Vaux  and  St.  Mande.  She 
loves  to  wander  under  the  bright  rays  of  Endymion's 
mistress,  or  spend  hours  alone  with  the  hamadryads 
(wood  nymphs).  Her  trees  are  covered  with  inscrip- 
tions and  curious  mottoes,  as  in  the  landscapes  of  Pastor 
fido  and  the  Aminte.  "  Bella  cosa  far  niente,  says  one 
of  my  trees,  and  the  other  replies,  Amor  odit  inertes 
(Love  hates  idlers).  We  know  not  which  to  listen  to." 
And  elsewhere  she  remarks  :  "  They  are  not  disfigured 
by  our  sentences  ;  I  often  visit  them  ;  they  are  even 
augmenting,  and  two  neighbouring  trees  will  often  say 
quite  contrary  things  :  La  lontananza  ogni  gran  piaga 
salda,  and  Piaga  d'amor  non  si  sana  mai.  There  are 
five  or  six  thus  contradictory."  These  reminiscences 
of  pastoral  romances,  a  little  insipid  though  they  are, 
flow  quite  naturally  from  her  pen,  and  pleasantly 
relieve  the  many  fresh  and  original  descriptions 
she  so  charmingly  writes.  "  I  have  come  here " 
(to  Livry)  "to  see  the  end  of  the  fine  weather,  and 
bid  adieu  to  the  leaves.  They  are  still  on  the  trees,  and 
have  but  changed  colour  ;  instead  of  being  green,  they 
are  golden,  of  so  many  varied  tints  that  they  form  a 
brocade,  so  gorgeous  and  magnificent  that  we  are 
tempted  to  prefer  it  to  the  green,  if  only  by  way  of 
change."  And  again,  when  she  is  at  the  Rochers,  she 
writes :  "  I  should  be  so  happy  in  these  woods,  if  the 
foliage  would  but  sing  ;  oh,  how  lovely  it  would  be  to 
listen  to  the  warbling  leaves  ! "  And  again,  how  glowing 
is  her  description  of  the  rapturous  month  of  May,  when  tiw 
C 


34  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE. 

nightingale,  the  cuclcoo,  and  the  warbler  usher  in  the  spring- 
time in  our  woods  and  forests!  how  intensely  she  can 
make  us  feel, — nay,  how  she  permeates  our  being  with 
the  very  touch  of  those  beautiful  crystal  days  of  autumn, 
which  are  no  longer  warm,  and  yet  not  cold  !  When  her 
son,  to  meet  his  foolish  extravagances,  causes  the  old 
woods  of  Buron  to  be  cut  down,  she  rebels,  and  grieves 
with  all  the  banished  dryads  and  ousted  fauns ; 
Ronsard  could  not  more  worthily  have  deplored  the 
disappearance  of  the  forest  of  Gastine,  nor  M.  de 
Chateaubriand  the  hewing  down  of  his  paternal  woods. 
Because  we  often  find  her  in  a  gay  and  sportive 
mood,  we  must  not  be  unjust,  and  judge  that  Mme. 
de  Se'vigne'  is  frivolous  or  unfeeling.  She  was  serious, 
even  sad,  especially  during  her  sojourns  in  the  country  ; 
all  her  life  she  was  subject  to  long  fits  of  reverie.  Only, 
we  must  understand,  she  did  not  dream  under  the 
shade  of  those  thick  dark  avenues  after  the  manner  of 
Delphine,  or  in  the  mood  of  Oswald's  sweetheart :  that 
peculiar  form  of  reverie  had  not  yet  been  invented  ; 
Mme.  de  Stael  had  not  yet  written  her  admirable  book, 
The  Influence  of  Passion  upon  Happiness.  At  this  time 
reverie  was  a  simpler  matter,  a  personal  and  quite 
unconscious  condition  of  mind  ;  it  meant  thoughtful 
musing  of  her  daughter  far  away  from  her  in  Provence, 
of  her  son  in  Candia  or  with  the  king's  army,  of  her 
distant  or  dead  friends  ;  it  suggested  thoughts  expressed 
as  follows  :  "  As  regards  my  life,  you  know  what  it  is  : 
passed  with  five  or  six  friends,  whose  society  is  pleasing 
to  me,  in  the  exercise  of  a  thousand  necessary  duties, 
which  require  time.  But  what  vexes  me  is,  that  in 
doing  nothing,  our  days  pass,  and  our  poor  existence  is 
composed  of  such  days,  and  we  grow  old  and  die.  I 
find  this  very  cruel."  The  exact  and  regular  religious 
observances  which  governed  her  life  did  much  at  that 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  35 

time  to  temper  the  free  play  of  her  imagination,  which 
afterwards  on  religious  subjects  she  did  not  curb, 
although  she  carefully  guarded  herself  against  some 
thoughts  which  we  must  pass  over.  She  earnestly 
sought  after  Christian  doctrines  and  Christian  prin- 
ciples, and  more  than  once  accused  her  daughter  of 
being  tainted  with  Cartesianism.*  For  herself,  as 
regards  the  unforeseen,  she  bowed  her  head,  and  took 
refuge  in  a  kind  of  providential  fatalism,  with  which 
her  connection  with  Port-Royal,  and  her  studies  of 
Nicole  and  St.  Augustin  had  inspired  her. 

This  resigned  religious  element  in  Mme.  de  Se"vigne's 
character  increased  with  years  without  changing  in 
the  slightest  degree  the  serenity  of  her  disposition  ;  it 
often  communicated  to  her  language  a  graver,  more 
judicious  tenderness.  This  is  especially  observable  in 
a  letter  to  M.  de  Coulanges  on  the  death  of  Louvois, 
in  which  her  sublime  eloquence  equals  Bossuet,  as  in 
other  days  and  in  other  circumstances  she  had  almost 
surpassed  the  humour  of  Moliere. 

M.  de  Saint-Surin,  in  his  esteemed  work  on  Mme. 
de  Sevigne\  lost  no  opportunity  of  comparing  her  to 
Mine,  de  Stael,  and  invariably  gave  her  the  advantage 
over  that  famous  woman.  We  agree  that  it  is  both 

*  There  have  been  many  disputes  as  to  the  merits  of  Mme.  de 
Grignan,  and  probably  her  mother  has  harmed  her  a  little  in 
our  eyes  by  praising  her  too  much ;  it  forces  one  into  a  difficult 
position  with  uninterested  persons  to  be  made  an  object  of  too 
much  love.  The  son,  who  was  rather  rakish,  seems  to  us  much 
more  amiable.  According  to  my  ideas,  we  can  easily  under- 
stand how  the  good  sense  and  gaiety  of  Mme.  de  Sevign6's 
nature  were  divided,  and,  as  it  were,  distributed  between  her 
children :  one,  the  son,  inherited  her  gracious  ways,  but  not 
much  sense  or  solidity  ;  the  other,  the  daughter,  had  the  sense, 
but  her  apparent  brusqueness  was  not  softened  by  any  charm- 
ing sprightliness  of  temper. 


36  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE. 

interesting  and  profitable  to  make  this  comparison,  Imt 
it  need  not  be  to  the  detriment  of  either.  Mine,  de  Stael 
represents  an  entirely  new  society,  Mme.  de  SeVigne 
a  banished  society  ;  from  this  fact  arises  the  stupendous 
differences,  which  one  is  at  first  tempted  to  explain 
solely  by  the  dissimilarity  of  mind  and  nature.  How- 
ever, and  without  any  desire  to  deny  this  profound  and 
original  dissimilarity  between  two  hearts,  one  of  which 
understood  only  maternal  love,  while  the  other  had 
experienced  every  passion  the  most  generous  and  the 
bravest,  we  find  in  them,  on  close  examination,  many 
common  weaknesses,  many  common  virtues,  which  owe 
only  their  different  development  to  the  difference  of 
time.  What  genuine  ability,  full  of  airy  grace,  what 
glowing  pages  of  pure  wit,  in  Mine,  de  Stael,  when 
sentiment  does  not  play  a  part,  and  when  she  allows 
philosophy  and  politics  to  slumber!  And  Mme.  de 
Sevignd — does  she  never  philosophize,  never  declaim  1 
If  not,  of  what  use  her  study  of  such  books  as  the 
Morale  of  Nicole,  the  Socrate  chrdien,  and  St.  Augustin  ? 
For  this  woman,  who  has  been  looked  upon  as  shallow  and 
frivolous,  read  everything,  and  read  with  perfect  com- 
prehension and  sympathy  :  "  It  gives,"  she  said,  "  a  pale 
colour  to  the  mind  to  take  no  pleasure  in  solid  reading." 
She  read  Rabelais,  Montaigne  and  Pascal,  Cleopatra 
and  Quentilien,  Saint  Jean  Chrysostom,  and  Tacitus 
and  Virgil, — not  travestied  versions,  she  enjoyed  them 
in  all  the  majesty  of  the  Latin  and  Italian.  In  rainy 
weather  she  would  get  through  a  folio  in  less  than  a  fort- 
night. During  Lent,  she  loved  to  listen  to  Bourdaloue.* 
Her  attitude  towards  Fouquet,  in  his  disgrace,  makes 
us  realize  the  devotion  she  was  capable  of  displaying  in 
the  days  of  revolution.  If  she  shows  a  little  vanity  or 
conceit,  when  the  king  one  evening  dances  a  minuet 
*  An  eloquent  preacher  of  the  day. — TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE. 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  37 

with  her,  or  when  he  pays  her  a  gracious  compliment 
at  Saint-Cyr,  after  the  performance  of  (Racine's)  Esther, 
who  among  her  sex  would,  in  her  place,  have  been  more 
philosophical  ?  Did  not  Mme.  de  Stae'l  herself  take  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  to  obtain  a  word,  a  glance,  from 
the  conqueror  of  Egypt  and  Italy  (Napoleon).  Surely 
a  woman  who,  from  her  earliest  youth,  had  associated 
with  such  men  as  Menage,  Godeau,  and  Benserade,  her 
own  good  sense  alone  protecting  her  from  their  insipid 
compliments  and  witticisms ;  able  playfully  to  evade 
the  refined,  seductive  attentions  of  such  as  Saint- 
Evremond  and  Bussy ;  a  woman  who  was  the  friend 
and  admirer  of  Mile,  de  Scuddry  and  of  Mme.  de 
Maintenon,  and  who  yet  preserved  her  own  individu- 
ality, as  far  removed  from  the  romantic  sentiment  of 
the  one  as  from  the  too  reserved  severity  of  the  other  ; 
who,  connected  by  many  ties  with  Port- Royal,  fed,  as  it 
were,  on  the  works  of  these  Messieurs,  and  who  modestly 
hid  her  knowledge  of  Montaigne,  never  even  quoting 
Rabelais,  and  desiring  no  other  inscription  for  what 
she  called  son  convent,  than  Sainte  liberte',  or  Fais  ce  que 
voudra,  as  at  the  Abbey  of  Theleme, — such  a  woman  is 
free  to  indulge  in  sportive,  playful  moods,  to  allow  her 
thoughts  to  glide,  to  amuse  herself  by  seeing  things 
from  their  most  familiar  aspect ;  she  proves  her  pro- 
found energy  and  the  rare  originality  of  her  wit. 

There  is  only  one  occasion  on  which  we  cannot  help 
regretting  that  Mme.  de  S4vign6  allowed  herself  to 
indulge  in  frivolous,  mocking  expressions  ;  an  occasion 
on  which  we  absolutely  refuse  to  enter  into  her  badin- 
age, which,  indeed,  even  after  taking  into  consideration 
every  extenuating  circumstance,  we  can  scarcely  pardon. 
It  is  when  she  so  gaily  describes  to  her  daughter  the 
revolt  of  the  Breton  peasants,  and  the  horrible  severities 
with  which  it  was  repressed.  So  long  as  she  confines 


38  MADAME  DE  SE  VIGNE. 

herself  to  mocking  the  States,  the  country  squires, 
laughing  at  their  amazing  feasts,  and  enthusiastic  haste 
to  get  over  the  voting  between  mid-day  and  one  o'clock, 
and  all  the  other  follies  of  her  Breton  neighbours  after 
dinner,  it  is  all  very  well,  a  proper  and  legitimate  kind 
of  fun,  which  in  some  places  recalls  the  flavour  of 
Moliere.  But  as  soon  as  the  trenches  are  opened  in 
the  province,  and  a  colique  pierreuse  is  reported  from 
Rennes — that  is  to  say,  when  the  governor,  M.  de 
Chaulnes,  wishing  to  disperse  the  people  by  his  presence, 
has  been  driven  back  to  his  house  by  stones  ;  from 
the  moment  M.  de  Forbin  arrives  with  six  thousand 
soldiers  against  the  rioters,  and  when  the  poor  devils, 
seeing  the  royal  troops  in  the  distance,  disband  and  try 
to  escape  through  the  fields,  or  throw  themselves  on 
their  knees,  crying  Mea  culpa,  for  they  know  no  French, 
only  their  own  patois  ;  when,  to  punish  Rennes,  its 
Parlement  was  removed  to  Vannes ;  when  five-and- 
twenty  or  thirty  men,  taken  haphazard,  were  hanged  ; 
when  they  drove  into  banishment  all  the  inhabitants 
of  one  great  street,  sick  women,  old  men,  and  little 
children,  forbidding  any  one  to  shelter  them  under  pain 
of  death,  torturing  by  the  rack  and  the  wheel,  and  then 
setting  the  victims  free  by  hanging  them, — in  the 
midst  of  such  horrors,  perpetrated  against  poor,  inno- 
cent, homeless  people,  it  pains  us  to  find  Mme.  de 
Sevigne'  making  playful  remarks,  almost  as  on  some 
ordinary  subject.  We  should  expect  her  to  be  full  of 
generous,  angry  indignation  ;  but  above  all  we  should 
like  to  erase  from  her  letters  lines  like  these :  "  The 
rebels  of  Rennes  escaped  long  ago,  so  the  innocent  suffer 
for  the  guilty ;  but  it  is  all  right,  provided  the  four 
thousand  soldiers  who  are  at  Rennes,  under  MM.  de 
Forbin  and  de  Vins,  do  not  hinder  me  from  wandering 
about  in  my  woods,  which  I  find  marvellously  grand 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  39 

and  solemnly  beautiful."  And  elsewhere  :  "  They  have 
arrested  sixty  townsmen,  and  to-morrow  they  begin  to 
hang.  This  province  is  a  good  example  to  others, 
particularly  to  teach  respect  for  governors,  not  to  insult 
them,  nor  to  throw  stones  in  their  gardens."  And 
again,  and  lastly  :  "  You  speak  very  complacently  of  our 
distress  ;  we  are  no  longer  si  rouds*  the  rack  once  a  week 
is  sufficient  for  justice,  mere  hanging  seems  a  refreshing 
process  now."  The  Due  de  Chaulnes,  who  urged  all  this 
vengeance  because  some  one  had  thrown  stones  in  his 
garden,  and  said  some  insulting  things  to  him,  of  which 
the  mildest  was  fat  pig,  was  not  lowered  an  atom  in 
the  good  graces  of  Mme.  de  Se"vignd  ;  he  remained  to  her 
always,  and  to  Mme.  de  Grignan,  who  was  as  devoted 
to  him,  "  our  good  Duke  ;"  more  than  this,  when  he  was 
appointed  ambassador  at  Eome,  and  left  the  province, 
all  Brittany  was  overwhelmed  with  sorrow.  Certainly, 
we  have  here  matter  for  much  reflection  on  the  customs 
and  civilisation  of  the  great  century ;  our  readers  can 
easily  fill  in  the  gap.  We  can  only  regret  that  on  this 
occasion  Mme.  de  Sevigne  was  not  superior  to  her  time ; 
she  might  worthily  have  been  so,  for  her  kindness  of 
heart  equalled  her  beauty  and  grace.  It  happened 
occasionally  that  she  desired  to  recommend  a  convict 
to  the  merciful  consideration  of  M.  de  Vivonne  or  M. 
de  Grignan.  The  most  interesting  of  these  proteges 
was  certainly  a  gentleman  of  Provence,  whose  name  has 
not  been  preserved.  "This  unfortunate  youth,"  she 
wrote,  "  was  attached  to  the  service  of  M.  Fouquet,  and 
was  convicted  of  having  rendered  him  the  service  of 
transmitting  a  letter  from  him  to  Mme.  Fouquet ;  for 
this  he  has  been  condemned  to  the  galleys  for  five  years. 
This  is  a  rather  unusual  case.  You  understand,  he  is 
one  of  the  most  honest  fellows  one  could  meet  with, 
*  So  much  broken  on  the  wheel  as  we  were. 


40  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE. 

and  as  fit  for  the  galleys  as  to  try  and  take  the  moon 
by  the  horns." 

Mme.  de  Sdvigne's  style  has  been  so  often  and  so 
ably  judged,  analyzed,  admired,  that  it  is  difficult  now 
to  find  any  words  of  praise  which  would  be  at  the  same 
time  new  and  suitable  to  apply  to  her ;  and,  on  the 
other  side,  we  do  not  feel  at  all  disposed  to  revive  the 
commonplace  by  cavil  and  criticism.  A  single  general 
observation  will  suffice  ;  it  is,  that  we  may  ascribe  the 
grand  and  beautiful  styles  of  Louis  the  XIV.'s  time  to 
two  different  methods,  two  distinct  and  opposing  man- 
nerisms. Malherbe  and  Balzac  endowed  our  literature 
with  its  learned,  masterly  polish,  in  the  creation  of 
which  the  faculty  of  expression  arose,  though  gradually, 
slowly,  after  many  hesitating  efforts.  This  careful  style 
Boileau  took  every  opportunity  of  encouraging  :  "  Revise 
your  work  twenty  times,"  he  says  ;  "  polish  and  repolish 
it  unweariedly."  He  boasts  of  having  with  difficulty 
taught  Racine  to  make  fluent  verses.  Racine  may  be 
considered  the  most  perfect  model  of  this  highly  polished 
style.  Fiddlier  was  less  happy  in  his  prose  than  Racine 
as  a  poet.  But,  distinct  from  this  manner  of  composition, 
in  which  there  is  always  a  certain  academical  uniformity, 
there  exists  another  very  different  style,  fickle,  uncon- 
strained, and  versatile,  following  no  traditional  method, 
conformable  to  all  diversities  of  talent  and  to  every 
variety  of  genius.  Montaigne  and  Regnier  havefurnished 
us  with  excellent  examples  of  this  style,  and  Queen 
Marguerite  *  has  given  us  one  charming  specimen  in  her 
familiar  Me"moires,  the  work  of  a  few  after-dinner  hours. 
This  is  the  full,  wide,  flowing  style,  which  better  suits 
the  present  taste, — impulsive,  off-hand,  so  to  speak, 
like  Montaigne  himself;  the  style  also  of  La  Fontaine, 
Moliere,  of  F<;neloii  and  Bossuet,  of  the  Due  de  Saint- 
*  Of  Savoy. 


MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.  41 

Simon  and  of  Mme.  de  Sevigne".  A  style  in  which  the 
latter  excels,  she  allows  her  pen  to  run  along  with  a 
very  loose  rein,  and  as  she  goes  on,  she  scatters  her  wealth 
of  imagery,  of  comparison,  and  glowing  colour,  while 
wit  and  sentiment  slip  from  her  unawares.  Thus, 
without  effort,  and  with  no  suspicion  of  it  herself,  she 
takes  first  rank  among  the  great  writers  in  our 
language. 

"The  sole  artifice  of  which  I  dare  suspect  Mme.  de 
SevigneY'  says  Mme.  Necker,  "is  that  of  frequently 
using  general  and  consequently  rather  vague  expressions, 
which,  from  her  manner  of  arranging  them,  may  be 
compared  to  a  flowing  robe,  a  shapeless  garment,  the 
fashion  of  which  an  artistic  hand  may  model  at  will." 
The  comparison  is  ingenious,  but  there  is  not  necessarily 
any  author's  artifice  in  this  style,  common  to  her  epoch. 
Before  exactly  adjusting  itself,  or  adapting  itself  to  such 
a  vast  variety  of  dissimilar  ideas,  the  language  has 
amplified  its  powers  in  all  directions,  and  has  thus 
become  possessed  of  a  rich  facility  of  diction  and  a 
singular  grace  of  phraseology.  As  soon  as  the  epoch  of 
analysis  is  past,  and  a  language  has  been  cut  and  carved, 
and  elaborated  into  use,  the  indefinable  charm  is  lost, 
and  it  is  in  the  attempt  to  return  to  former  conditions 
that  real  artifice  consists. 

And  now,  if  in  all  we  have  said,  we  appear  to  some 
prejudiced  minds  to  have  carried  our  admiration  for 
Mme.  de  Sevigne*  too  far,  will  they  allow  ITS  to  ask 
them  a  question :  Have  you  read  Mme.  de  Sevigne"  ? 
And  by  reading  we  do  not  mean  running  through  some 
chance  collection  of  her  letters,  not  merely  forming  an 
opinion  from  two  or  three  which  enjoy  a  classical  renown, 
— such  as  her  letters  on  the  intended  marriage  of  Made- 
moiselle, on  the  death  of  Vatel,  of  M.  de  Turenne,  of  M. 
de  Longueville, — but  going  thoroughly,  page  by  page, 


42  MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE. 

through  the  ten  volumes  of  letters  (and  we  specially 
recommend  the  edition  of  M.  Monmerqu^  and  M.  de 
Saint-Surin),  following,  to  use  her  own  expression,  every 
thread  of  her  ideas.  Read  her,  in  fact,  as  you  would 
Clarissa  Harlowe,  when  you  have  a  fortnight's  rainy 
leisure  in  the  country  ;  and  after  this  test,  not  a  very 
terrible  one,  you  will  share  in  our  admiration,  if  you 
have  the  courage  to  confess  it,  always  supposing  that 
it  has  been  still  remembered. 


MADAME    DE    STAEL. 

1835- 


I. 

WHEN  revolution  has  changed  society,  no  sooner  has 
the  lowest  depth  been  reached,  than  we  begin  lovingly 
to  turn  our  thoughts  backward,  and  to  distinguish 
among  the  varied  pinnacles  soaring  on  the  horizon, 
certain  giant  forms  which  hold  themselves  apart  as  the 
divinities  of  certain  places.  This  personification  of  the 
genius  of  times  in  illustrious  individuals  is  not  a  pure 
illusion  of  perspective  ;  distance  certainly  favours  such 
points  of  view,  separates,  perfects,  but  does  not  create 
them.  There  are  true  and  natural  representatives  of 
every  moment  of  social  life  ;  although,  from  a  little 
distance,  the  number  decreases,  and  detail  becomes 
less  complex,  till  at  last  only  one  prominent  summit 
remains.  Corinne,  from  afar,  stands  out  distinct  and 
clear  on  Cape  Misene.* 

The  French  Revolution,  which  in  every  crisis  had  its 
great  men,  possessed  also  its  brilliant  and  heroic  women, 
whose  names  are  associated  with  the  experiences  of  each 
successive  phase.  As  the  old  society  died  out,  it  had 
its  innocent  victims,  its  captives,  who  were  crowned 
with  a  brilliant  halo  of  glory  in  prisons  or  on  scaffolds. 
The  bourgeoisie,  rising  rapidly,  produced  very  quickly 

•  An  allusion  to  a  scene  in  Cerinne. — TR. 
43 


44  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

their  heroines,  and  also  their  victims.  Later  on,  ere 
the  storm  had  lulled,  groups  of  famous  women  arose, 
who  have  glorified  that  reanimation  of  social  life  and 
the  enjoyments  of  wealth.  The  Empire  also  had  its 
distinguished  women,  exercising,  however,  at  that  time 
but  little  influence.  At  the  Restoration  we  discover 
the  name  of  some  noble  woman  who  worthily  represents 
the  manners  and  dispassionate  opinions  of  the  Empire. 
But  the  many  successive  celebrities  who  are  closely 
connected  with  every  phase  of  the  Eevolution,  all  at 
last  find  themselves  grouped  round  one  single  celebrity. 
who  includes  them  all  within  herself,  reconciles  them 
aH  together,  participates  in  the  brilliancy  and  devotion 
which  appertains  to  them,  takes  her  part  in  raising 
the  standard  of  politeness  and  energy,  sentiment  and 
courage,  inspiring  intellect  with  noble  aims,  then  en- 
circling all  these  gifts  by  the  genius  which  obtains  for 
them  immortal  honour. 

A  child  of  the  Reformation  through  her  father,  Mine, 
de  Stael  was  linked  by  education,  and  by  the  traditions 
of  her  early  youth,  to  the  salons  of  the  old  world.  The 
personages  among  whom  she  grew  up,  and  who  smiled 
on  her  precocious  flight,  were  those  who  formed  the 
most  intellectual  circle  of  these  waning  years  of  former 
times  :  reading  about  1810,  at  the  time  she  was  most 
persecuted,  the  Correspondence  of  Mine,  du  Deffand 
and  Horace  Walpole,  she  found  herself  wonderfully 
moved  at  the  remembrance  of  that  great  world,  in  which 
she  had  been  acquainted  with  many  famous  people,  and 
in  which  every  family  was  known  to  her.  If  her  early 
attitude,  then,  was  remarkable  for  a  kind  of  sentimental 
animation,  which  certain  envious  aristocrats  censured, 
she  was  destined  by  the  very  impulsiveness  of  her  elo- 
quence to  convince  her  hearers  always  and  everywhere. 
But  even  in  this  quiet,  peaceful  circle  she  had  already 


MADAME  DE  STAl-.L.  45 

become  an  undoubted  ornament,  and  she  went  forth  to 
continue,  on  a  less  stereotyped  but  grander  model,  a  series 
of  salons  as  illustrious  as  were  those  salons  of  the  old 
French  regime.  Mme.  de  Stael  had  inherited  sufficient 
of  the  charm  and  of  the  manner  of  these  former  times  ; 
but  she  did  not  depend  on  that  heritage,  for,  like  most 
geniuses,  she  was  distinguished  in  an  unusually  eminent 
degree  for  the  universality  of  her  intelligence,  her 
capacity  for  affection,  and  a  constant  necessity  for  new 
sensations.  Besides  the  traditional  and  already  classic 
success  of  Mme.  du  Deffand  and  Mme.  de  Beaxivau, 
which  she  had  adopted  as  her  style,  blended  with  her 
own  originality,  she  was  inspired  by  the  fresh  energy, 
the  plebeian  genius,  and  the  courage  of  the  republican 
spirit.  The  heroism  of  Mme.  Roland  and  Charlotte 
Corday  found  its  echo  in  her  heart ;  her  exquisite 
sympathy  with  noble  aspirations  never  failed.  True 
Bister  of  Andre  Chenier  by  instinct  and  devotion,  she 
had  her  eloquent  cry  of  sorrow  for  the  queen,  as  he 
uttered  his  for  the  king  (Louis  XVI.),  and  she  would 
have  gone  to  the  bar  of  justice  to  defend  her  had  there 
been  a  remote  chance  of  saving  her.  She  suffered  soon  ; 
and  in  her  book  on  The  Influence  of  the  Passions,  she 
expresses  all  the  sadness  of  virtuous  Stoicism  in  these 
times  of  oppression  when  one  could  do  nothing  but  die. 
Under  the  Directorate,  her  writings  and  her  con- 
versation, without  excluding  the  preceding  qualifications, 
are  more  severe  in  tone  ;  she  supports  the  cause  of 
philosophy,  of  perfectibility,  of  a  moderate  and  liberal 
republic,  just  as  the  widow  of  Condorcet  might  have 
done.  It  was  a  little  later  than  in  the  preface  to 
Literature  considered  in  connection  with  Social  Institutions, 
that  she  expressed  this  bold  idea  :  "  Some  of  Plutarch's 
lives,  a  letter  of  Brutus  to  Cicero,  some  of  the  words  of 
Cato  of  Attica  in  the  language  of  Addison,  some  reflcc- 


46  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

tions  with  which  hatred  of  tyranny  inspired  Tacitus, 
revives  the  spirit  which  contemporaneous  events  would 
blast."  This  did  not  hinder  her  from,  at  the  same  time, 
showing  the  pleasure  she  took  in  the  renewal  of  old 
friendships  as  soon  as  they  reappeared  from  exile.  And 
at  this  time  she  welcomed,  and  with  all  her  heart  appre- 
ciated, the  fame  of  the  most  highly  esteemed  woman  of 
her  time,*  the  purest,  and  the  most  accomplished  ;  she 
encircled  herself  with  these  friends  as  with  a  garland, 
while  Les  Lettres  de  Brutus  are  still  half  read,  and  M.  de 
Montmorency  smiles  pityingly  on  her.  Thus,  step  by 
step,  or  at  once,  the  intellectual  impulse  of  the  salons  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  the  vigour  of  new  hopes  and 
large  enterprises,  the  sadness  of  Stoic  patriotism  with 
the  renewing  of  gracious  friendships,  and  the  access  to 
modern  elegance,  influenced  in  various  ways  that  soul 
as  changeable  as  it  was  truly  complete.  And  later, 
on  her  return  to  France,  after  the  Empire,  in  the  too 
few  years  she  lived,  we  find  her  grasping  with  equal 
promptitude  the  meaning  of  necessary  transactions, 
while  her  frequent  friendships  in  these  times,  with 
persons  like  Mine,  de  Duras,  furnish  the  last  touch 
required  to  give  to  her  life  every  characteristic  shade 
of  the  social  phases  through  which  she  passed,  from  the 
half  philosophical  and  innovating  salon  of  her  mother, 
to  the  liberal  royalty  of  the  Restoration.  Regarding  it 
from  this  point  of  view,  Mme.  de  StaeTs  existence  is 
altogether  like  a  great  empire,  which  she  is  ceaselessly 
occupied,  no  less  than  that  other  conqueror,  her  con- 
temporary and  oppressor,  in  completing  and  augment- 
ing. But  it  is  not  in  a  material  sense  that  she  acts,  it 
is  not  province  after  province,  and  one  kingdom  after 
another,  that  her  indefatigable  activity  covetously  re- 
quires ;  it  is  in  the  ordering  of  her  mind  that  she 
*  Mme.  R6camier. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  47 

ceaselessly  expands  ;  it  is  the  multiplicity  of  noble  ideas, 
of  profound  sentiments,  of  enviable  intercourse,  that 
she  seeks  to  organize  in  and  around  herself.  Yes,  during 
these  years  when  her  life  was  complete  and  powerful, 
instinctively,  and  as  a  consequence  of  the  sympathy  and 
impetuous  curiosity  of  her  nature,  she  aspired, — and 
we  say  it  in  her  praise, — she  aspired  to  a  vast  court,  to 
an  empire  increasing  in  intelligence  and  affection,  where 
nothing  gracious  or  important  was  omitted,  where  all 
degrees  of  talent,  of  birth,  of  patriotism,  and  of  beauty, 
were  enthroned  under  her  own  eyes  :  empress  of  thought, 
she  loved  to  confine  within  the  limits  of  her  free  dominion 
all  the  appanages  of  her  state.  When  Bonaparte  perse- 
cuted her,  he  was  vaguely  angry  at  that  rivalry  which, 
unconsciously  to  herself,  she  assumed. 

The  dominating  charm  in  Mme.  de  Stael's  character, 
the  chief  point  in  which  all  the  contrasts  of  that 
character  were  united,. the  quick  and  penetrating  faculty 
which,  passing  from  one  thing  to  another,  supported 
that  marvellous  medley,  was  most  certainly  conversa- 
tion, an  impromptu  eloquence,  which  sprang  quick 
and  sudden  from  the  divine  depths  of  her  soul, — this, 
properly  speaking,  was  what  constituted  for  her  la  vie, 
a  magical  expression  which  she  has  used  so  often,  and 
which,  following  her  example,  we  must  employ  very 
often  in  speaking  of  her.  Her  contemporaries  are  all 
unanimous  on  this  point ;  if  you  admire  or  are  touched 
by  some  clever  or  brilliant  pages  of  her  books,  it  may 
always  be  said  of  her,  as  of  the  great  Athenian  orator  : 
"  Imagine  how  grand  that  would  have  sounded  spoken 
in  her  own  voice."  Adversaries  and  critics,  who  so 
readily  assume  to  themselves  a  superiority  fit  to  contend 
against  the  pre-eminence  of  any  individual  who  seems 
too  great  and  perfect  in  their  eyes,  who  take  some 
already  acknowledged  work  of  talent  and  bring  it  into 


48  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

competition  against  the  new  claimant  for  honour, 
render  on  this  point  due  homage  to  Mme.  de  Stael, — an 
interested  homage,  it  may  be,  and  even  rather  treacher- 
ous, but  quite  equal  to  that  of  her  admirers.  Fontanes,  in 
1800,  ended  the  famous  articles  of  the  Mercure  by  these 
words  :  "  In  writing  she  still  supposed  herself  to  be 
conversing.  All  who  heard  her  applauded.  I  had  not 
heard  her  when  I  criticised  her."  For  a  very  long 
time,  indeed,  Mme.  de  Stael's  writings  reflected  the 
mannerisms  of  her  conversational  style.  Reading  her 
fluent  and  sparkling  productions,  one  might  almost 
believe  one  heard  her  voice.  A  slightly  careless  manner 
of  sketching  her  subject,  a  flighty  style  quite  allowable 
in  conversation,  but  noticeable  to  a  reader,  alone  forces 
one  to  observe  a  change  in  the  mode  of  expression, 
which  requires  more  conciseness.  Still,  superior  as 
Mme.  de  Stael's  conversation  may  have  been  to  her 
writings,  at  least  as  far  as  her  earlier  works  are  con- 
cerned, we  do  not  find  her  like  some  great  debaters  and 
orators,  such  as  Mirabeau  and  Diderot,  who,  after  the 
mariner  of  Talma,  powerful  and  famous  though  they 
were  in  their  display  of  eloquence,  have  left  us  no 
written  testimony  at  all  equal  to  their  influence  and 
their  glory  ;  she,  on  the  contrary,  has  left  us  plenty  of 
enduring  work  to  testify  most  worthily  of  her  talent, 
and  posterity  has  no  need  of  borrowed  explanations, 
nor  of  a  long  array  of  contemporaneous  testimony  in 
her  favour.  Perhaps, — and  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has 
remarked  this  in  the  judgment  he  pronounced  on  her 
about  the  time  she  died, — to  make  her  works  more 
perfect,  it  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  deprive  her  of 
one  of  her  talents,  namely,  conversation.  However, 
just  as  we  find  her  in  reality,  so  she  very  beautifully 
accomplishes  her  task  as  an  author.  Despite  some 
faults  of  style,  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  said  in  the 


MADAME  DE  STAS.L.  49 

same  place,  she  will  add  one  more  to  the  list  of  names 
which  can  never  die.  Her  writings,  indeed,  even  with 
all  their  imperfections  in  point  of  detail,  their  quick, 
hurried  glimpses,  their  looseness  or  want  of  continuity, 
often  serve  the  better  to  interpret  the  rare  conception 
of  her  impulsive,  sensitive  heart ;  'and  then,  as  a  work  of 
poetic  art,  Corinne  alone  will  stand  as  her  immortal 
monument.  In  Corinne,  Mme.  de  Stae'l  displays  artistic 
qualities  of  the  highest  order,  while  otherwise  she  will 
for  ever  be  eminent  in  virtue  of  her  talents  as  politician, 
moralist,  critic,  and  writer  of  memoires.  It  is  this 
uniform  yet  varied  life,  the  soul  breathing  through  her 
writings,  stirring  about  them,  and  the  circumstances 
under  which  they  were  composed,  which  we  would  try 
to  conjure  up,  in  some  places  to  concentrate,  in  order  to 
convey  to  others  the  profound  impression  we  ourselves 
have  formed  of  them.  We  know  how  delicate  a  task  it 
is  to  make  this  half-conjectural  and  altogether  poetic 
impression  accord  with  the  still  freshly  remembered 
reality,  how  immediate  contemporaries  have  always 
some  peculiarity  to  oppose  to  the  idea  we  desire  to 
conceive  of  the  person  they  have  known ;  we  also  know, 
that  in  the  arrangement  of  such  a  stormy,  changeful 
life,  there  are  many  slips  in  the  general  design  which 
distance  of  time  adjusts ;  but  this  is  rather  a  sketch 
than  a  biography,  a  reflex  of  moral  portraiture  in  the 
form  of  a  literary  critique ;  and,  moreover,  I  have 
tried,  in  describing  the  general  characteristics  of  this 
noble-minded  woman,  to  remember,  and  to  take  into 
consideration,  many  more  minute  details  than  it  is 
possible  to  mention. 

Mile.  Germain  Necker,  growing  up  betwixt  the  rather 

rigid  severity  of  her  mother,   and  the  half-playful, 

half-encouraging  criticism  of  her  father,  naturally  was 

more  influenced  by  the  latter,  and  she  early  became  an 

D 


SO  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

infant  prodigy.  She  had  her  place  in  the  salon,  on  a 
little  wooden  stool  close  to  Mine.  Necker's  chair,  who 
made  her  hold  herself  very  straight  and  stiff ;  Mme. 
Necker,  however,  was  unable  to  constrain  the  child's 
replies  to  the  questions  put  to  her  by  celebrities  such  as 
Grimm,  Thomas,  Raynal,  Gibbon,  and  Marmontel,  who 
enjoyed  crowding  round  her,  provoking  opinions  from 
her,  and  never  finding  her  at  fault.  Mme.  Necker  de 
Saussurehas  graphicallydescribed  her  wonderful  powers, 
at  this  early  age,  in  the  excellent  sketch  of  her  cousin 
she  has  written.  Mile.  Necker  then  read  books  much 
beyond  her  age,  went  to  the  play,  and  afterwards  wrote 
down  her  recollections  of  it ;  when  quite  a  child,  her 
favourite  game  was  to  cut  out  paper  figures  of  kings  and 
queens  and  make  them  perform  tragedies  ;  these  were  her 
marionettes,  as  Goethe  had  his.  The  dramatic  instinct, 
the  craving  for  emotional  sensation,  was  apparent  in 
everything  she  did.  When  only  eleven,  Mile.  Necker 
wrote  portraits  and  character  studies,  according  to  the 
fashion  of  the  time.  At  fifteen,  she  had  written  extracts 
from  the  L'Esprit  des  Lois,  with  marginal  notes  ;  and  at 
the  same  age,  in  1781,  after  the  publication  of  the 
C&mpte-rendu,  she  wrote  an  anonymous  letter  on  the 
subject  to  her  father,  who,  however,  recognised  his 
daughter's  style  of  writing.  But  her  ruling  character- 
istic was  that  extreme  sensibility,  which,  towards  the 
end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  chiefly  under  the 
influence  of  Jean-Jacques,  began  to  dominate  youthful 
hearts  —  sensibility  which  afforded  such  a  singular 
contrast  to  the  excessive  analysis  and  the  incredulous 
pretension  of  the  waning  century.  In  that  rather 
inordinate  recoil  upon  the  powerful  instincts  of  nature, 
reverie,  melancholy,  pity,  enthusiastic  admiration  of 
genius,  virtue,  and  misfortune,  the  sentiments  which 
La  Nouvelle  Hdlo'ise  had  propagated,  took  a  strong  hold 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  51 

of  Mile.  Necker,  and  impressed  all  the  first  part  of  her 
life  and  her  work  with  a  tone  of  ingenuous  exaggeration, 
which  is  not  without  its  charm,  even  when  it  draws 
forth  a  smile.  This  disposition  was  first  manifested 
in  her  enthusiastic  admiration  of  her  father,  an  en- 
thusiasm which  time  and  death  only  increased,  but 
which  sprang  up  in  these  early  years,  and  which  at 
certain  moments  almost  took  the  form  of  jealousy  of 
her  mother.  In  her  life  of  M.  Necker,  when  speaking  of 
the  long  time  he  spent  in  Paris  when  still  young  and 
unmarried,  she  says  :  "  Sometimes  in  his  conversations 
with  me  in  his  exile,  he  would  describe  to  me  that 
period  of  his  life,  the  thought  of  which  moved  me 
deeply,  that  time  when  I  could  imagine  him  so  young, 
so  loveable,  so  lonely !  at  an  age  when,  if  fate  had  made 
us  contemporaries,  our  destinies  might  have  been 
united  for  ever  ; "  but  she  added :  "  My  mother  required 
a  husband  who  could  not  be  compared  with  other  men  ; 
she  found  him,  spent  her  life  with  him,  and  God 
preserved  her  from  the  misfortune  of  outliving  him  .  .  . 
she  deserved  happiness  better  than  I  did."  This 
adoration  of  Mme.  de  Stael  for  her  father  is,  with  more 
solemnity  and  certainly  not  less  depth,  the  inversion 
and  counterpart  of  the  sentiment  Mme.  de  Sevigne  had 
towards  her  daughter;  it  is  refreshing  to  meet  with 
such  pure  and  ardent  affections  in  such  brilliant  minds. 
As  regards  Mme.  de  Stael,  one  can  account  for  the 
warmth  and  continuity  of  her  filial  worship  ;  in  all  the 
disappointments  of  her  life,  in  the  gradual  extinction  of 
all  illusions  of  the  heart  and  of  the  imagination,  only 
one  human  being,  one  alone  among  all  this  so  beloved 
of  old,  was  for  ever  in  her  thoughts,  a  pure  and  stainless 
love,  which  time  never  diminished ;  on  that  revered  head 
rested,  immortal  and  already  glorified,  all  the  otherwise 
vanished  passion  of  her  youth. 


52  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

At  that  age  of  enthusiasm,  romantic,  dreaming  love, 
and  the  obstacles  it  encountered,  and  fearlessness  of 
suffering  and  death,  were,  next  to  her  peculiar  adoration 
of  her  father,  the  cherished  sentiments  of  her  heart,  of 
that  heart  so  quick  and  sensitive,  which  even  joy  moved 
to  tears.  She  preferred  to  write  on  such  subjects,  and 
did  so  surreptitiously,  as  also  by  stealth  she  read  certain 
books  which  Mme.  Necker  would  have  forbidden.  I 
can  almost  see  her  in  the  study,  under  her  mother's 
very  eyes,  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  a  volume  in 
her  hand,  reading  the  book  she  was  obliged  to  read 
as  she  approached  her  mother's  chair,  and  then,  as  she 
slowly  walked  away  again,  replacing  it  by  a  sentimental 
romance,  perhaps  some  novel  of  Mine.  Riccoboni's. 
In  after  years,  she  said  that  the  abduction  of  Clarissa 
was  one  of  the  events  of  her  youth, — an  expression  which 
sums  up  a  whole  world  of  first  emotions  ;  whether  it  be 
Apropos  of  Clarissa  or  of  some  other  hero  or  heroine, 
every  tender  and  poetic  imagination  ought  to  echo  this. 

The  earliest  printed  work  of  Mile.  Necker's,  if  it  was 
really  hers,  must  have  been  a  volume  called  Letters 
from  Nanine  to  Simphel,  which  M.  Beuchot  seems  to 
attribute  to  our  authoress,  but  which  was,  in  course 
of  time  (1818),  disowned.  This  little  romance,  which 
treats  of  nothing  unusual  for  an  enthusiastic  and 
innocent  young  girl  to  have  imagined,  and  the  plot  of 
which  scarcely  differs  from  those  of  Sophie,  of  Mirza, 
or  of  Pauline,  and  other  early  productions,  shows  even 
greater  inexperience  as  regards  style  and  composition. 
I  find  nothing  remarkable  in  it,  either  as  regards  the 
style  of  language  or  the  rustic  colouring,  peculiar  to  a 
heroine  of  fourteen,  except  these  words  of  Nanine : 
"  I  succeeded  yesterday  morning  in  going  to  the  tomb  ; 
there  I  wept  a  torrent  of  tears,  precious  tears,  which  love 
and  sorrow  lend  to  unhappy  people  like  me.  A  heavy 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  53 

shower  which  came  on  made  me  think  that  nature  felt 
my  grief.  Each  leaf  seemed  to  weep  with  me ;  the 
birds  were  silenced  by  my  sighs.  This  idea  made  such 
an  impression  on  my  soul,  that  I  uttered  aloud  my 
earnest  prayers  to  the  Eternal  Being.  Unable  to 
remain  longer  in  that  deserted  place,  I  returned  home 
to  hide  my  sorrow,"  etc. 

Sophie,  or  Secret  Sentiments,  written  when  Mme.  de 
Stae'l  was  twenty,  about  1786,  or  rather  earlier,  is  a 
dramatic  poem,  the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  an  English 
garden,  shaded  by  cypress  trees,  and  with  a  funereal 
urn  in  the  distance.  Cecile,  a  child  of  six,  runs  up  to 
the  melancholy  Sophie,  whom  a  silent  passion  devours, 
and  addresses  her  thus  : — 

"Why  then  so  far  away  from  us  do  you  remain? 
My  father  is  distressed. 
Sophie.  Your  father? 

Clcile.  Yes,  dearest ;  he  fears  that  you  are  melancholy. 
Explain  that  word  to  me." 

This  was  just  how  Mile.  Necker  abruptly  asked  the 
old  Marechale  de  Mouchy,  one  day,  what  she  thought  of 
love ; — a  joke  which  M.  Necker  was  fond  of  relating 
about  his  daughter,  and  which  she  was  fond  of 
recalling  to  his  memory. 

There  was,  even  if  not  visible  in  her  earlier  writings, 
certainly,  in  Mme.  de  StaeTs  nature,  a  vivacity  closely 
allied  to  sadness,  a  spirituelle  petulance  along  with  the 
melancholy,  a  piquant  tendency  to  turn  herself  into 
ridicule,  which  saved  her  from  the  least  approach  to 
heaviness,  and  testified  to  the  vigorous  strength  of  her 
mind. 

It  is  in  that  poem  called  Sophie  that  we  find  the 
charming  lines  which,  the  author's  personal  friends  still 
recall  with  pleasure  :  when  heard  for  the  first  time,  one 
marvels  at  not  knowing  them,  asking  where  could 


54  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

Mine,   de   Stael  have  said  them, — no  one  dreama   of 
finding  that  beautiful,  half-buried  pearl  where  it  is. 

Mais  un  jour  vous  saurez  ce  qu'eprouve  le  cceur, 
Quand  un  vrai  sentiment  n'en  fait  pas  le  bonlieur ; 
Lorsque  sur  cette  terre  on  se  sent  delaissee, 
Qu'on  n'est  d'aucun  objet  la  premiere  pensee ; 
Lorsque  Ton  peut  souffrir,  sur  que  ses  douleurs 
D'aucun  mortel  jamais  ne  font  couler  les  pleurs. 
On  se  desenteresse  a  la  fin  de  soi  meme, 
On  cesse  de  s'aimer,  si  quelqu'un  ne  nous  aitne ; 
Et  d'insipides  jours,  1'un  sur  1'autre  entasses, 
Se  passeut  lentemeut  et  sout  vite  effaces.* 

Acte  II.  Scene  viii. 

The  three  novels  published  in  1795,  although  written 
ten  years  earlier, — Mirza,  Adelaide  and  Theodore,  Pauline, 
— are  exactly  in  the  same  style  as  Sophie,  and  their  easy 
prose  makes  them  more  attractive.  They  are  invariably 
(whether  the  scene  is  laid  among  African  savages  or  in 
the  depths  of  an  English  forest)  about  unfortunate 
people  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  sentimental  misery, 
lovers  reduced  to  shadows  by  the  disastrous  tidings  of 
infidelity,  or  there  is  a  tomb  half  buried  among  trees. 
As  I  read  of  these  blighted  hopes  and  untimely  deaths, 
I  think  of  the  good  Abbe"  Prevost  and  his  very  similar 
characters ;  or,  more  correctly  speaking,  I  find  myself 
really  walking  in  the  woods  of  Saint-Ouen,  where 

*  Perhaps  you  soon  will  know  the  aching  of  a  heart, 
When  even  noble  thoughts  no  happiness  impart ; 
When  in  this  world  we  feel  ourselves  forsaken, 
And  of  our  woes  no  tender  heed  is  taken  ; 
When  one  must  suffer,  certain  that  one's  grief 
From  friendship's  tears  will  find  no  sweet  relief: 
And  so,  at  length,  of  one's  sad  lot  made  weary, 
Beloved  by  none,  and  palled  by  life  so  dreary, 
The  dull,  insipid  days  pass  one  by  one  ; 
And  time's  slow  sands  to  quick  oblivion  run. — TR. 


MADAME  DE  STARL.  55 

Mile.  Necker  dreamed,  or  in  the  gardens  of 
Ermenonville,  where  her  many  pilgrimages  brought 
inspiration.  I  know  under  which  shady  alley  one 
heroine  strolled,  from  which  leafy  avenue  another 
rushed  in  tears.  Yet  the  time  spent  here  must  have 
been  very  short,  and  in  her  early  youth.  Later, — still 
quite  soon  enough, — stricken  by  the  spectacle  of  public 
passion,  perhaps  also  warned  by  some  wound,  she 
would  experience  a  reaction  against  that  development 
of  extreme  sensibility  of  which  she  was  conscious.  In 
her  book  on  The  Influence  of  the  Passions,  she  tries  to 
combat  them,  she  would  suppress  them  ;  but  even  her 
accusing  accents  are  full  of  it  still,  and  that  forced  tone 
only  appears  the  more  passionate.  However  great  the 
tendency  to  stoicism  may  appear  to  be  in  Delphine,  she 
will  for  ever  remain  the  most  bewitching  genius  of  love. 
M.  de  Guibert  wrote  a  sketch  of  Mile.  Necker  j\ist 
as  she  reached  her  twentieth  year,  a  brilliant  portrait, 
quoted  by  Mme.  Necker  de  Saussure.  The  study  is 
said  to  be  borrowed  from  a  Greek  poet,  and  very  aptly 
expresses  the  prevailing  taste  of  society  at  that  time  ; 
it  is  known  that  the  portraits  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
de  Choiseul  were  written  by  the  Abbe"  Barthelemy 
under  the  names  of  Arsame  and  Ph^dime.  Here  are 
a  few  of  the  characteristics  of  M.  de  Guibert's  Zulmd  : 
"Zulm£  is  only  twenty  years  old,  but  she  is  already 
one  of  the  most  honoured  priestesses  of  Apollo ;  it  is 
she  whose  incense  is  most  pleasant  to  him,  and  whose 
voice  he  prefers  to  any  other.  .  .  .  Her  great  black 
eyes  sparkle  with  the  light  of  genius  ;  her  ebony  locks 
fall  in  rich  profusion  on  her  shoulders  ;  her  features 
are  more  marked  than  gentle,  there  is  something  in 
them  which  promises  more  than  the  usual  fate  of  her 
sex."  I  have  myself  seen  a  portrait*  of  Mile.  Necker 
*  Portrait  by  Rehberg.—  TR. 


56  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

in  her  youth,  which  comfirms  this  description.  She 
had  wavy  hair,  a  clear  and  frank  expression,  a  high 
forehead,  and  lips  apart  as  if  about  to  speak,  the  blush- 
ing cheeks  spoke  of  quick  and  sensitive  feelings  ;  the 
neck  and  arms  were  bare,  her  dress  gathered  together 
in  loose  folds  by  a  sash.  This  picture  might  be  the 
Sophie  in  Emile,  the  author  of  the  Lettres  sur  Jean- 
Jacques  accompanying  her  admirable  guide  in  his 
Elysian  fields,  pleased  with  all  his  efforts,  at  one  time 
following  in  his  footsteps,  at  another  going  on  before. 

The  Lettres  sur  Jean-Jacques,  written  in  1787,  really 
form  the  first  of  Mine,  de  Stael's  serious  works,  the 
production  in  which  she  makes  it  apparent  that  her 
intellectual  inclinations  are  already  armed  with  the 
eloquence  and  solidity  till  then  only  vaguely  tried. 
Grimm,  in  his  Correspondence,  gives  extracts  from  this 
charming  work,  as  he  calls  it,  of  which  there  were  only 
twenty  copies  printed  at  first,  yet  notwithstanding  the 
cautious  reserve  maintained  in  its  distribution,  it  did 
not  long  escape  the  honour  of  a  public  edition.  Before 
giving  any  extracts  from  the  book,  the  gifted  habitud 
of  Mine.  Necker's  salon  bestows  much  praise  on  the 
authoress,  describing  her  as  "this  young  lady,  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  illusions  of  her  age,  all  the  pleasures 
of  the  city  and  of  the  court,  all  the  homage  which  her 
own  celebrity  and  her  father's  fame  brought  her,  all 
this  without  taking  into  account  her  desire  to  please, 
which  of  itself  would  probably  have  been  as  effective 
as  all  the  accessories  which  nature  and  art  have  lavished 
on  her."  The  Letters  on  Jean-Jacques  are  her  grateful 
homage  to  the  admired  and  favourite  author,  to  him 
with  whom  Mme.  de  Stael  had  so  much  in  common. 
Many  writers  are  careful  to  keep  silent  about,  or  else 
they  criticise,  the  literary  parents  from  whom  they 
spring :  it  shows  a  noble  candour  to  appear  in  public 


MADAME  DE  STA1LL.  57 

for  the  first  time  acknowledging  and  glorifying  him  to 
whom  we  owe  our  inspiration,  from  whom  to  us  has 
flowed  that  broad  stream  of  beautiful  language,  for 
which  in  olden  times  Dante  rendered  thanks  to  Virgil ; 
thus  also,  in  her  literary  life,  Mme.  de  Stael  displays 
her  filial  passion.  The  Letters  on  Jean-Jacques  are  a 
poem,  but  a  poem  nurtured  on  grave  thoughts,  while  at 
the  same  time  varied  by  delicate  observations,  a  poem 
with  the  bold,  sustained  rhythm  recognisable  in  Corinne 
as  she  descends  the  steps  of  the  Capitol.  All  the  future 
works  of  Mme.  de  Stael  of  every  description,  whether 
romantic  or  political,  or  relating  to  social  morality,  are 
shadowed  in  the  rapid,  harmonious  eloquence  of  that 
eulogy  of  Rousseau's  work,  just  as  a  great  musical 
composition  manifests  all  the  latent  depth  of  its  con- 
ception in  the  overture.  The  success  of  these  Letters, 
which  corresponded  with  the  sympathetic  impulses  of 
the  time,  was  immense  and  universal. 

Grimm  agrees  with  this  (but  according  to  a  com- 
municated manuscript),  and  gives  an  extract  from  the 
Eloge  de  M.  de  Guibert  (1789),  since  printed  in  the  com- 
plete edition  of  the  works.  Mme.  de  StaeTs  admiration 
for  the  object  of  this  Eloge  is  not  less  enthusiastic  than 
it  had  been  immediately  before  for  Jean  -  Jacques, 
although  in  the  latter  case  the  sentiment  may  seem  less 
impartial ;  but  in  this  work  she  has  propagated  new  and 
daring  political  views,  and  is  too  lavish  in  her  persuasive 
deification  of  and  belief  in  genius.  Through  all  the 
exaggerated  pathos  with  which  she  pleads  the  cause  of 
moderation,  she  yet  succeeds  in  enlisting  our  pity  and 
esteem  for  that  distinguished  man,  so  much  admired 
and  envied  in  his  time,  though  quite  forgotten  since, 
and  who  henceforth  will  be  remembered  only  through 
her.  M.  de  Guibert,  in  his  discourse  on  his  admission 
to  the  Academy,  very  often  used  the  word  glory,  thus 


58  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

involuntarily  betraying,  she  says,  his  majestic  spirit. 
For  my  own  part,  I  have  to  thank  that  nobly  ambitious 
and  misunderstood  man  of  genius  for  my  earliest 
comprehension  of  the  means  and  ideas  of  reform,  of 
the  States- General,  and  of  a  force  of  citizen  soldiers, 
but  I  render  him  special  thanks  for  having,  with  such 
sure  and  certain  confidence,  foretold  the  coming  great- 
ness of  Corinne. 

Worldly  honour  and  literary  fame  brought  upon 
Mine,  de  Stael  about  this  time  the  impertinent  banter 
of  the  wits,  just  as,  a  little  later,  in  1800,  we  again  find 
them  in  league  against  her.  Champcenetz  and  Rivarol, 
who,  in  1788,  had  published  the  Petit  Dictionnaire  des 
(hands  Hommes,  compiled  two  years  later  another  Petit 
Dictionnaire  des  Grands  Hommes  de  la  Revolution,  which 
they  solemnly  dedicated  to  the  Baroness  de  Stael, 
^Ambassadress  from  Sweden  to  the  Nation?  This  pamphlet 
gave  the  tone  to  the  criticisms  which  were  subsequently 
circulated  against  her.  Rivarol  and  Champcenetz  pos- 
sessed, indeed,  the  same  wonderful  faculty  for  irony  and 
caricature,  which  Fiev^e,  Michaud,  and  others  after- 
wards displayed  against  Mine,  de  Stael.  But  by  this 
time,  as  Grimm  says,  the  object  of  those  attacks  had 
gained  such  celebrity  that  criticisms  of  such  a  nature 
were  harmless.  The  terrible  events  of  the  French 
Revolution  occurred  to  cut  short  that  first  part  of  a 
literary  life,  so  brilliantly  inaugurated,  and  to  suspend, 
usefully,  I  believe,  for  thought,  the  whirl  of  worldly 
pleasures,  which  gave  no  respite. 

Notwithstanding  her  absolute  faith  in  M.  Necker, 
her  complete  adoption  of  his  views,  and  the  detailed 
vindication  of  his  political  opinions  which  she  sets 
forth  in  her  book  of  Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  Mme.  de  Stael,  in  her  youth 
and  enthusiasm,  at  that  time  ventured  even  further  than 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  59 

he  did  in  the  same  theories.  She  did  not  agree  with  the 
complications  of  the  English  constitution ;  and  on 
many  points  she  was  more  advanced  than  even  the 
constitutional  royalists  of  that  enlightened  generation, 
Narbonne,  Montmorency,  or  even  La  Fayette  himself. 

Indeed,  if  from  this  date  it  is  necessary  to  assign  a 
particular  line  of  politics  to  a  judgment  so  swayed  by 
sentiment,  we  should  be  more  correct  to  say  that  Mme. 
cle  Stael  was  influenced  rather  by  the  constitutional 
royalists  of  '91,  than  by  the  group  composed  of  MM. 
Malouet,  Monnier,  and  Necker.  We  find,  besides,  in  a 
journalistic  article  of  hers  which  has  been  preserved, 
the  only  written  expression  of  her  opinions  at  this 
epoch ;  she  there,  under  the  immediate  impression  of 
his  loss,  extols  the  departed  Mirabeau,  a  favourable 
judgment  which,  however,  she  afterwards  retracts. 

Mme.  de  Stael  left  Paris,  though  not  without  some 
danger  and  difficulty,  after  the  2nd  of  September.  She 
spent  the  year  of  Terror  in  the  department  of  Vaud, 
with  her  father  and  some  refugee  friends,  M.  de 
Montmorency  and  M.  de  Jaucourt. 

From  the  terrace  gardens  of  Coppet,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Lake  of  Geneva,  her  thoughts  were  chiefly  occupied 
in  comparing  the  glorious  sunshine  and  the  peaceful 
beauty  of  nature  with  the  horrors  everywhere  per- 
petrated by  the  hand  of  man.  Excepting  her  eloquent 
cry  of  pity  for  the  queen,*  and  the  poem  on  Misfortune, 
her  genius  observed  a  scrupulous  silence :  like  the  regular 
stroke  of  the  oars  on  the  surface  of  the  lake,  there  came 
from  afar  the  hollow  echo  of  the  axe  upon  the  scaffold. 

The  condition  of  agonized  depression  in  which  Mine. 

de  Stael  existed  during  these  terrible  months,  left  her, 

in  the  intervals  of  her  devoted  exertions  for  others,  no 

desire  for  herself  but  death,  a  longing  for  the  end  of 

*  The  Defence  of  the  Queen,  published  in  1793.— Tit. 


60  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

the  world,  and  of  that  human  race  which  could  permit 
such  horrors.  "  I  would,"  she  says,  "  have  made  even 
thought  a  reproach  to  myself,  because  it  was  separate 
from  sorrow."  The  9th  Thermidor  gave  her  back 
that  faculty  of  thought  more  energetic  after  its 
paralysis,  arid  the  use  she  promptly  put  it  to  was  the 
composition  of  her  Reflections  upon  Peace,  the  first 
part  addressed  to  Pitt,  and  the  second  to  the  French. 
As  a  display  of  profound  commiseration  and  of  calm 
justice,  and  as  an  appeal  to  opinion  not  lost  in  fanati- 
cism, to  forget  the  past,  to  seek  conciliation,  and  as  an 
expression  of  apprehension  of  the  evils  born  of  extremes, 
this  latter  contains  sentiments  at  once  opportune  and 
generous,  and  indicates  elevation  of  soul  and  of  ideas. 
There  is  an  attitude  of  ancient  inspiration  in  that 
youthful  womanly  figure  springing  up  and  standing 
on  the  still  smoking  ashes  to  exhort  a  nation.  There  is, 
moreover,  great  political  wisdom,  and  a  thorough  under- 
standing of  the  real  situation  in  the  prematurely  wise 
counsel  which  her  passionate  accents  unfold.  As  an 
eyewitness  of  the  daring  success  of  fanaticism,  Mine,  de 
Stael  declares  it  to  be  one  of  the  most  formidable  of 
human  weapons  ;  she  considers  it  an  inevitable  element 
in  every  struggle,  and  in  times  of  revolution  necessary 
for  victory,  but  she  now  desires  to  restrict  it  to  her 
own  personal  circle.  Since  fanaticism  inclines  towards 
that  republican  form  which  it  at  last  attained,  she 
invites  all  who  are  wise,  all  friends  of  honest  liberty, 
whatever  views  they  may  hold,  to  join  together  sincerely 
in  that  new  membership  ;  she  solemnly  implores  the 
bleeding  hearts  not  to  rise  against  an  accomplished 
fact.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  she  says,  "  that  vengeance 
(even  if  it  is  necessary  in  irreparable  afflictions)  cannot 
bind  itself  to  any  particular  form  of  government, 
cannot  make  those  political  shocks  desirable  which 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  61 

affect  the  innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty."  According 
.to  her,  there  is  no  period  of  a  revolution  more  critical, 
more  opportune  for  intelligent  effort  and  sacrifice,  than 
when  fanaticism  seeks  to  make  popular  the  establish- 
ment of  a  government  purely  democratic,  and  without 
prestige — if  by  any  new  misfortune,  sober  minds 
should  lend  their  consent  to  it.  We  perceive  that  she 
treats  fanaticism  entirely  as  a  physical  power,  as  she 
would  speak  of  weight,  a  grand  proof  that  her  mind 
rose  superior  to  disaster.  Convinced  that  action  is  the 
result  of  diverse  opinions,  we  find  Mme.  de  Stae'l,  in  this 
work,  strenuously  endeavouring  to  convince  the  French 
in  her  own  rank,  the  old  constitutional  royalists,  of 
the  necessity  for  freely  rallying  round  the  established 
order,  so  that  they  may  bias  temperately  without 
attempting  to  flatter.  She  says  to  them  :  "  To  oppose 
yourselves  to  an  experience  as  novel  as  was  that  of  the 
republic  in  France,  when  there  were  so  many  chances 
against  its  success,  so  many  evils  to  endure  in  order 
to  obtain  it,  is  a  very  different  thing  from  trying  by 
another  kind  of  presumption  to  make  as  much  blood 
flow  as  has  already  been  spilt,  so  that  you  may  recover 
the  only  government  you  consider  possible,  namely, 
monarchy." 

We  feel  that  such  conclusions  must  have  appeared 
too  republican  to  many  among  those  to  whom  she 
addressed  herself;  they  must  also  have  seemed  weak 
to  the  pure  conventionalists,  and  to  those  who  were 
republican  from  conviction.  In  her  other  works, 
published  up  to  1803,  we  find  Mme.  de  Stae'l  becoming 
more  and  more  attached  to  that  form  of  government, 
and  to  those  essential  conditions  which  alone  can 
maintain  it.  Most  of  the  philosophical  principles 
which  helped  in  their  development  under  the  well- 
composed  and  much-respected  constitution  of  the  year 


62  MADAME  DE  STA£L. 

III.,  had  in  her  a  brilliant  mouthpiece,  during  that  ill- 
appreciated  period  of  her  political  and  literary  life. 
It  was  not  till  later,  and  more  especially  towards  the 
latter  years  of  the  Empire,  that  the  notion  of  the 
English  constitution  seized  upon  her  imagination. 

In  the  volume  of  short  pieces  which  Mme.  de  Stael 
published  in  1795,  we  find,  besides  three  stories  which 
date  from  her  girlhood,  a  charming  Essay  on  Fiction,  of 
more  recent  date,  and  a  little  poem,  called  Misfortune, 
or  Adcle  and  Edouard,  written  while  under  the  influence 
of  the  Terror.  It  is  remarkable  that  at  such  a  time, 
when  all  her  usual  talents  were,  as  it  were,  suspended 
or  crushed,  the  art  of  song,  of  poetry,  should  have 
visited  her,  coming  as  a  comfort  and  occupation ;  and 
this  manifests  the  wonderful  power  of  poetry  to  soothe 
even  the  most  secret  grief,  of  which  it  is  the  instinctive 
plaint,  the  melodious  sigh  which  nature  craves,  a 
language  of  surpassing  sweetness,  in  which,  when  other 
language  fails,  we  can  still  pour  out  our  sorrows.  But 
in  this  poetic  romance,  as  in  every  attempt  of  this 
description,  intention  with  Mme.  de  Stael  is  better 
than  result ;  sentiment  prevails,— is,  as  we  have  already 
indicated,  its  chief  aim,— but  she  exclaims  : 

"Souvent  les  yeux  fixds  sur  ce  beau  paysage 
Dont  le  lac  avec  pompe  agrandit  les  tableaux, 
Je  contemplais  ces  monts  qui,  formant  son  rivage, 
Peignent  leur  cime  auguste  au  milieu  de  ses  eaux: 
Quoi !  disais-je,  ce  palme  ou  se  plait  la  nature 
Ne  peut-il  penetrer  dans  mon  ccsur  agite  ? 
Et  1'homme  seul,  en  proie  aux  peines  qu'il  endure, 
De  1'ordre  general  serait-il  excepte.''* 

*  Often  when  my  eyes  rest  on  that  beautiful  landscape,  which 
the  lake  reflects  in  all  its  grandeur,  I  contemplate  those  moun- 
tains, which,  rising  from  its  banks,  paint  their  summits  in  the 
midst  of  its  waters  :  Why  !  I  ask,  can  this  calm  which  nature 


MADAME  DE  STAZL.  63 

This  conception  of  the  discord  between  a  glorious 
smiling  nature  and  human  suffering  and  death,  has 
inspired  most  of  the  poets  of  modern  time  to  express 
themselves  in  accents  of  bitterness  or  melancholy : 
Byron,  in  the  powerfully  satirical  introduction  to 
the  second  canto  of  Lara  ("  But  mighty  nature  bounds 
as  from  her  birth  ") ;  Shelley,  in  the  strained  and  pain- 
ful ending  of  Alastor  (".  .  .  And  mighty  Earth,  from 
eea  and  mountain,  city  and  wilderness,"  etc.) ;  M.  de 
Lamartine,  in  the  Dernier  Pklerinage  de  Childe  Harold 
("  Tiiomphe,  disait-il,  immortelle  Nature,"  etc.) ;  and 
M.  Hugo,  in  one  of  the  sunsets  of  his  Feuilles  cCAiitomne: 

"Je  m'en  irai  bientot  au  milieu  de  la  Fete, 
Sans  que  rien  manque  au  Monde  immense  et  radieux.  " 

Has  not  Corinne  herself,  on  Cape  Misene,  uttered  these 
nobly  inspired  words,  "  0  Earth  !  all  bathed  in  blood 
and  tears,  thou  hast  never  ceased  to  bring  forth  fruit 
and  flowers  !  Art  thou,  then,  pitiless  towards  man  1 
when  his  dust  returns  to  thy  bosom,  dost  thou  not 
thrill  and  tremble?"  Now,  how  is  it  that  a  poet  at 
heart,  as  this  poetic  expression  undoubtedly  proves 
Mme.  de  Stae'l  to  have  been,  yet  renders  her  profound 
sentiment  in  prose  1  Does  it  mean,  as  Mme.  Necker  de 
Saussure  explains,  that  the  structure  of  poetry  was  an 
art  so  perfected  in  France,  that  the  labour  it  involved 
to  one  not  early  accustomed  to  it,  quenched  the  poetic 
spirit  ?  Or  does  it  mean,  as  a  less  indulgent  critic  has 
conjectured,  that  being  seldom  able  to  subject  herself, 
even  in  her  prose,  to  strict  rules,  Mme.  d.e  Stael  was 
probably  less  fit  than  any  of  her  contemporaries  to 
yield  herself  gracefully  to  the  bondage  of  rhyme. 

so  delights  in,  not  penetrate  to  my  restless  heart  ?  Is  man 
only  a  prey  to  the  torments  which  he  bears,  is  he  alone  to  be 
exempt  from  nature's  rule  ? — TR. 


64  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

Besides,  we  find  many  eminent  writers  severely  correct, 
accomplished,  and  artistic  in  their  prose,  who  are  yet 
unable,  in  consequence  of  that  new  individuality  of 
style,  to  express  themselves  skilfully  and  fluently  in 
verse.  And  again,  does  not  one  of  our  greatest  and 
most  melodious  poets  offer  us  the  singular  example  of 
intentional  carelessness,  in  his  poetry  as  well  as  in  his 
prose  writings?  It  is  better,  therefore,  to  recognise, 
that  quite  independently  of  either  natural  or  acquired 
style,  poetry  is  a  gift,  like  singing.  Those  whom  the 
Muse  has  destined  to  reach  her  beauteous  realms, 
arrive  there  as  if  on  wings.  With  Mme.  de  Stael,  aa 
with  Benjamin  Constant,  attempts  of  this  kind  were 
indifferent.  Thought,  which  with  both  is  unconstrained 
and  distinguished  in  prose  composition,  does  not  spon- 
taneously lend  itself  to  the  winged  flight  of  poetry, 
which  to  be  properly  conceived  ought  to  take  form 
with  the  birth  of  the  thought. 

All  Mme.  de  Stael's  faculties  were  kept  in  constant 
activity  by  the  storms  through  which  her  impetuous 
nature  passed,  and  in  every  sense  she  made  a  rapid 
flight.  Her  imagination,  her  delicate  sensibility,  her 
penetrating  power  of  analysis  and  judgment,  mingled, 
united,,  and  contributed  all  together  in  the  production 
of  celebrated  works.  When  the  Essay  on  Fictions  was 
composed,  it  already  included  all  the  poetry  of  Delphine. 
Wounded  by  the  spectacle  of  reality,  Mme.  de  StaeTa 
imagination  is  touched,  and  she  yearns  to  create  things 
happier  and  better ;  troubles,  even  the  remembrance  of 
which,  or,  at  least,  the  story  of  them,  will  cause  our 
softest  tears  to  flow.  But,  at  the  same  time,  every  one 
of  Mme.  de  Stael's  fictions,  besides  containing  genuine, 
natural  romance,  manifests  her  power  of  analyzing  the 
workings  of  human  passion  ;  this  is  her  aim,  and  it  is 
a  purpose  destitute  of  mythological,  or  allegorical,  or 


MADAME  DE  STA&L.  65 

supernatural  conceit,  or  of  any  philosophical  intention 
beyond  the  depth  of  ordinary  readers. 

Clementine,  Clarisse,  Julie,  Werther,  are  the  witnesses 
she  quotes  to  prove  the  infinite  power  of  love, — "  be- 
loved comforters,"  she  calls  them, — and  from  the  emotion 
which  the  mention  of  their  names  inspires,  it  is  easy  to 
foresee  that  a  sister  will  very  soon  be  born  to  them. 
A  note  to  this  essay  mentions,  in  terms  of  praise, 
V 'Esprit  des  Religions,  a  work  begun  about  this  time 
by  Benjamin  Constant,  though  not  published  till  thirty 
years  later.  Mme.  de  Stael  became  acquainted  with 
the  author  for  the  first  time  in  Switzerland,  about 
September  1794  ;  she  had  read  several  chapters  of  this 
book,  which,  let  us  remark  in  passing,  was  in  its  first 
draft  more  philosophic,  and  much  more  in  accord  with 
the  issues  of  the  analysis  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
than  it  afterwards  grew  to.  The  Essay  on  Fictions,  with 
its  rapid  fancies,  gives  us  even  at  that  time  admired, 
intense,  and  profound  ideas,  those  delicious  touches  of 
sentiment  peculiar  to  Mme.  de  Stael,  which,  properly 
speaking,  form  a  poetry  which  is  hers  alone,  her  own 
dreamy  melody  ;  as  she  utters  them,  there  seem  to  be 
tears  in  the  very  accents  of  her  thrilling  voice.  Yet 
they  are  mere  nothings,  it  is  the  tone  alone  which 
strikes  us ;  as,  for  example :  Dans  cette  vie  qu'il  faut 
passer  plutot  que  sentir,  etc.  II  n'y  a  sur  cette  terre  que 
des  commencements.  .  .  .  And  this  thought,  so  applicable 
to  her  own  works,  "Yes,  it  is  true,  the  book  which 
provides  even  a  day's  distraction  from  grief,  is  useful 
to  the  best  of  men." 

But  this  style  of  sentimental  inspiration,  this  mys- 
terious reflection  from  the  depths  of  the  heart,  illumines 
all  her  book  on  the  Influence  of  the  Passions,  giving  it 
an  indescribable  charm,  which,  to  certain  melancholy 
natures,  and  at  a  certain  time  of  life,  is  surpassed  by  no 
£ 


66  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

other  literature,  neither  by  the  sadness  of  Ossian  nor 
the  gloom  of  Oberman.  Besides  this,  the  first  part  of 
the  book  is  very  remarkable  from  a  political  point  of 
view.  The  author,  who  has  indeed  discussed  in  full 
only  the  influence  of  the  passions  on  the  happiness  of 
individuals,  designed  in  the  second  part  to  try  to  examine 
as  to  the  influence  of  the  same  motives  on  the  wel- 
fare of  societies,  and  the  principal  questions  which 
prognosticated  that  wide  research  are  approached  in  an 
eloquent  introduction.  In  the  beginning,  held  in  check 
by  memories  of  that  terrible  past  which  still  pursued 
her,  Mme.  de  Stael  exclaims  that  she  does  not  wish  her 
thoughts  to  dwell  on  it.  "  At  that  dread  picture  every 
throb  of  anguish  is  revived ;  one  shudders,  and  hot 
anger  burns  ;  we  would  fight  and  die."  Coming  genera- 
tions may  be  able  calmly  to  study  these  last  two  years, 
but  for  her  it  is  impossible  ;  she  does  not  wish  to  reason 
about  them,  therefore  she  turns  to  the  future  ;  she 
separates  generous  ideas  from  evil  men,  and  clears 
certain  principles  from  the  crimes  with  which  they 
have  been  soiled ;  she  still  hopes.  Her  judgment 
on  the  English  constitution  is  explicit ;  she  believes 
that  henceforth  in  France  we  might  be  satisfied  with 
some  fictions  hallowed  by  that  aristocratic  establishment 
of  our  neighbours.  She  is  not  in  favour  of  the  antagon- 
istic equilibrium  of  powers,  but  of  their  co-operation 
in  one  uniform  direction,  through  different  rates  of 
progress.  In  all  sciences,  she  says,  we  begin  by  the 
most  compound  in  order  to  arrive  at  the  simplest ;  in 
mechanics,  we  had  the  water-wheels  of  Marly  before 
pumps  came  into  use.  "  Without  attempting  to  turn  a 
comparison  into  a  proof,  perhaps,"  she  adds,  "  when, 
a  hundred  years  ago,  in  England,  the  idea  of  liberty 
again  dawned,  the  combined  organization  of  the  English 
government  was  at  the  highest  point  of  perfection  it 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  67 

could  then  attain ;  but  to-day,  after  the  Revolution, 
we  in  France,  from  a  simpler  basis,  can  show  results 
similar  in  some  respects  and  superior  in  others." 
France,  then,  from  her  own  showing,  ought  to  profit 
from  this  grand  experience,  the  misery  of  which  lies  in 
the  past  and  the  hope  in  the  future.  "  Allow  us,"  she 
says  to  Europe, — "  allow  us  in  France  to  fight,  conquer, 
suffer,  die,  in  our  affections,  in  our  most  cherished 
traditions,  to  be  born  again,  it  may  be,  afterwards  for 
the  wondering  admiration  of  the  world  !  .  .  .  Are  you 
not  glad  that  a  whole  nation  should  place  itself  in  the 
foremost  rank  of  civilisation  to  bear  the  brunt  of 
all  prejudices,  to  try  all  principles?"  Marie- Joseph 
Ohenier  ought  to  have  called  to  remembrance  many 
passages  inspired  by  the  generous  and  free  spirit  of 
these  hopeful  years,  rather  than  attack  our  author, 
as  in  his  Tableau  de  la  Literature,  he  has  done,  for 
a  dubious  expression  which  escaped  her  in  regard  to 
Condorcet.  Towards  the  end  of  the  introduction,  Mme. 
de  Stae'l  speaks  again  of  the  influence  of  individual 
passion,  that  science  of  mental  happiness,  that  is  to  say, 
of  the  least  possible  misery,  and  she  finishes  in  language 
of  touching  eloquence.  The  craving  for  devotion  and 
development,  the  pity  to  which  the  experience  of  grief 
gives  birth,  the  forethought  and  the  anxiety  to  comfort,  if 
possible,  the  trials  of  one  and  of  all ;  as  one  might  express 
it,  the  motherly  compassion  of  genius  for  all  unfortunate 
humanity,  are  very  striking  in  these  pages  ;  they  over- 
flow in  words,  the  tone  and  accent  of  which  cannot  be 
qualified.  Nowhere  so  distinctly  as  in  these  admirable 
pages,  does  Mme.  de  Stae'l  manifest  herself  to  be,  what 
she  will  remain  for  all  time — a  cordial,  kindly  genius. 
In  her  writings,  her  conversation,  and  in  herself 
personally,  there  was  a  healthy,  soothing  emotion,  which 
those  who  came  in  contact  with  her  experienced,  which 


68  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

still  survives,  and  will  unfold  itself  to  those  who  read 
her  works.  Very  different  are  such  lofty  geniuses,  male 
or  female,  as  Lara  or  Le"lia  (I  speak  of  Lelia  only,  and 
not  of  you,  0  Genevieve !  0  Lavinia  !)*  In  Mine,  de 
Stael,  we  find  nothing  arrogant  or  satirical  against  poor 
humanity.  Notwithstanding  her  penchant  for  match- 
less symbols,  which  everywhere  come  flashing  out  in  her 
romances,  she  believed  in  the  equality  of  the  human 
family :  Mine.  Necker  de  Saussure  tells  us  that,  even 
as  regards  the  intellectual  faculties,  the  very  small 
original  proportion  of  superior  talent,  which  the  most 
eminent  men  possess  over  the  average  generality  of 
mankind,  is  of  little  real  importance.  But,  whether  from 
theory  or  not,  her  natural  impulse  was  not  stayed  ;  her 
impressive  voice  appeals  first  to  all  the  good  qualities 
within  us,  rouses  them,  and  puts  new  life  into  them. 
Her  intention  is  always  sociable,  her  words  always 
conciliatory,  influencing  us  to  love  our  fellows.  In  this 
book,  The  Influence  of  the  Passions,  she  has  expressed 
many  ideas  which  are  also  to  be  found  in  the  Considdra- 
tions  sur  la  Revolution  francaise  of  M.  de  Maistre, 
written  and  published  precisely  at  the  same  time  ;  but 
what  a  different  tone  !  The  scornful  aristocrat,  with 
his  hard,  paradoxical  orthodoxy,  likes  to  set  forth  to 
contemporaries  and  victims  their  posterity,  who  will 
dance  upon  their  tombs ;  his  powerful  intellect  judges 
calmly,  and  with  offensive  rigidity.  Mme.  de  Stael, 
through  some  illusive  vapours,  frequently  penetrates  into 
the  future  as  deeply  as  M.  de  Maistre,  but  with  the 
spirit  of  one  who  feels  her  own  part  in  it.  I  shall  not 

*  In  studying  George  Sand,  I  applied  myself  betimes  to 
discern  the  delicacy  and  pathos  which  I  desired  to  see  triumph- 
ing over  the  passionate  element  and  the  bombastic  style. 
As  the  years  passed,  this  great  genius,  without  growing  weak, 
became  much  more  refined. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  69 

analyze  the  book :  let  any  one  re-peruse  the  chapter  on 
Love  ;  it  is  the  story  of  her  heart,  a  throbbing  yet  half- 
veiled  heart,  which  has  beat  for  thirty  years,  and  it  is 
enough  to  let  us  know  her.  We  can  hear  all  round 
her  there  the  echoes  of  a  thousand  thoughts  which  will 
nevermore  be  forgotten.  One  little  passage  among 
many  others  which  I  often  repeat,  is  in  my  memory  : 
The  life  of  the  soul  is  more  active  when  on  the  throne 
of  a  Caesar.  If  I  linger  too  long  on  these  older  writings 
of  Mme.  de  Stael's,  on  this  book,  The  Influence  of  the 
Passions,  and  presently  on  that  on  Literature,  it  is 
because  through  them  she  first  became  known  to  me ; 
because  I  have  read  them,  especially  Influence,  not  at 
five-and-twenty,  as  she  advises,  but  earlier,  at  that  time 
of  life  when  all  is  severe  simplicity  in  politics  as  in 
love,  and  full  of  solemn  resolves ;  when,  believing 
oneself  the  most  unfortunate  of  beings,  we  ardently 
dream  of  the  progress  and  felicity  of  the  world ;  at 
that  age,  which  we  ever  more  and  more  regret,  when 
the  violence  of  confused  hopes  and  disturbing  passions 
hides  itself  under  a  stoicism  which  we  think  will 
last  for  ever,  under  the  influence  of  which  we  could 
renounce  everything,  because  we  are  on  the  threshold 
of  feeling  everything.  Even  now,  these  two  works  of 
Mme.  de  Stael's,  The  Influence  of  the  Passions  and  the 
book  on  Literature,  seem  to  me  illustrious  productions, 
altogether  peculiar  to  an  epoch  which  was  in  its  glory 
during  the  time  of  the  Directorate,  or,  as  we  may  better 
express  it,  of  the  constitution  of  the  year  III.  They 
could  not  have  been  written  before  ;  nor  could  they 
have  been  written  afterwards,  under  the  Empire.  They 
present  to  me,  with  an  appearance  of  inexperience, 
the  poetry,  and  the  exalted,  enthusiastic,  and  pure 
philosophy,  of  that  republican  period,  the  literary 
counterpart  of  such  a  march  as  that  of  Moreau  over 


70  MADAME  DE  STAKL. 

the  Rhine,  or  of  some  early  Italian  battlefield.  M.  de 
Chateaubriand,  and  all  the  reactionary  movement  of 
1800,  had  not  yet  begun  hostilities ;  Mme.  de  Stael 
alone  propagated  sentiment  and  poetic  spiritualism, 
but  in  the  midst  of  the  philosophy  of  the  century. 

Her  book,  The  Influence  of  the  Passions,  was  favourably 
received  :  the  Mercury,  not  yet  revived  as  it  was  in 
1800,  gave  extracts  from  it,  accompanied  by  kindly 
criticisms.  Mme.  de  Stael  had  returned  to  Paris  after 
1795,  and  up  to  the  period  of  her  exile,  she  continued 
to  make  long  and  frequent  sojourns  there.  We  do  not 
require  to  enter  into  details  as  to  her  political  conduct, 
the  chief  lines  of  which  she  has  sketched  in  her 
Considerations  sur  la  Revolution  francaise,  and  it  would 
be  rather  uncertain  to  try  to  supplement  with  particu- 
lars from  equivocal  sources  what  she  has  not  told  us 
herself.  But  in  a  very  discriminating  and  very  clever 
article  on  Benjamin  Constant,  which  the  Revue  des  Deux- 
Mondes  has  published,  we  are  given  an  idea  of  Mme. 
de  Stael  and  of  her  then  existing  connections  which 
is  quite  incorrect,  although  consistent  with  general 
prejudice,  and  which  for  these  reasons  we  cannot  help 
correcting.  Mme.  de  StaeTs  salon  in  Paris  is  repre- 
sented as  the  rendezvous  of  a  cCterie  of  discontented, 
blase"  men,  belonging  both  to  the  old  and  new  regime, 
quite  incongruous  in  a  pure  republic,  and  hostile  to 
that  honest  establishment  which  was  being  so  vainly 
attempted.  By  way  of  contrast,  Benjamin  Constant  is 
made  to  appear  as  an  ingenuous  novice,  inclined  senti- 
mentally towards  moderate  republicanism,  and  in 
sympathy  with  these  same  patriotes,  who  in  Mme.  de 
StaeTs  salon  are  described  to  him  as  bloodthirsty 
monsters.  Correct  and  careful  in  his  handling  of 
Benjamin  Constant's  politics,  the  ingenious  writer  has 
not  rendered  equal  justice  to  Mme.  de  Stael.  Whatever 


MADAME  DE  STA&L.  71 

may  have  been,  indeed,  the  unavoidable  mixture  in  her 
salon,  as  in  all  salons  of  that  motley  period,  her  wishes 
were  most  manifestly  in  favour  of  the  honourable  and 
reasonable,  relative  to  the  establishment  of  the  year  III. 
Without  paying  too  much  heed  to  the  opinion  she 
expresses  thereupon  in  the  Considerations,  which  might 
possibly  be  suspected  of  after-rearrangement,  we  require 
no  further  proof  than  her  writings  from  1795  to  1800, 
and  the  visible  results  of  her  actions.  As  a  rule,  there 
are  two  sorts  of  people  whom  it  is  unnecessary  to 
consult  or  believe  either  in  regard  to  Mme.  de  Stael's 
connections,  or  the  part  she  herself  played  at  this 
period :  on  one  side,  the  royalists,  firmly  adhering  to 
their  old  malice  against  her,  accused  her  of  absurd 
confederacies,  of  Jacobin  tendencies,  indeed,  of  adher- 
ence to  the  18th  Fructidor,  and  of  I  know  not  what ; 
on  the  other  side,  there  were  those  whose  evidence 
on  the  subject  we  ought  not  to  challenge,  the  Con- 
ventionnels,  more  or  less  ardent,  who,  themselves 
favourable  to  the  18th  Fructidor,  and  afterwards 
adherents  of  the  18th  Brumaire,  finally  served  under  the 
Empire, — they  had  never  met  this  independent  woman 
except  in  the  ranks  of  the  opposition.  The  truest 
political  friends  of  Mme.  de  Stael  at  this  time  are  to  be 
found  in  the  enlightened  and  moderate  group  in  which 
we  distinguish  Lanjuinais,  Boissy-d'Anglas,  Cabanis, 
Garat,  Daunou,  Tracy,  and  Che"nier.  She  esteemed 
them,  and  courted  their  society  ;  the  bond  of  friendship 
which  united  her  to  some  among  them  was  very  strong. 
After  the  18th  Brumaire,  keener  interests  bound  them 
to  each  other  ;  the  opposition  of  Benjamin  Constant  to 
the  Tribunat  was  the  last  and  strongest  link. 

When  the  book  on  Literature  and  Delphine  appeared, 
it  was,  as  we  shall  see,  only  in  that  tribe  of  political 
friends  that  she  found  zealous  defenders  against  the 


72  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

spite  and  fury  of  the  opposite  party.  And  now,  allow 
me  to  say  at  once,  it  is  never  my  intention  to  make 
Mine,  de  Stael  out  to  be  more  cautious  in  thought, 
more  circumspect  in  regard  to  her  friendships,*  or  more 
exclusive,  than  she  really  was.  She  has  always  been 
quite  the  contrary  of  exclusive.  As  her  bold  young 
reason  declared  itself  for  that  republican  cause,  her  wit 
and  her  tastes  had  a  thousand  sympathies  with  opinions 
and  sentiments  of  different  origin,  of  a  nature  either 
more  frivolous  or  more  delicate,  but  profoundly  dis- 
tinct ;  it  is  one  of  her  weaknesses,  though  redounding 
to  her  honour,  that  she  was  able  thus  to  reconcile 
contrasts.  If  Garat,  Cabanis,  Che'nief,  Ginguene, 
Daunou,  dined  together  at  her  house  once  a  week,  or 
rather,  once  a  de'cade  (as  it  was  still  usual  to  say),  the 
other  nine  days  were  devoted  to  other  friends,  other 
social  customs,  other  shades  of  sentiment,  which  never 
intruded  upon  those  graver  friends.  All  this,  I  can 
well  believe,  was  arranged  by  her  with  a  certain  degree 
of  order,  of  authority,  perhaps :  M.  de  Montmorency, 
or  any  member  of  his  set,  was  never  by  any  chance  to 
be  met  at  her  house  on  the  day  that  the  writers  of  the 

*  An  English  poet  and  moralist,  William  Cowper,  who  is  in 
turn  kindly  and  austere,  although  in  speaking  of  France  he  is 
at  times  severe  almost  to  the  extent  of  injustice,  is  not  altogether 
wrong  when  he  describes  the  French  (at  the  time  of  the  American 
War)  as  that  nation  of  a  restless,  meddling  disposition,  which  in- 
terferes with  everything — at  least,  with  most  things.  Mme.  de 
Stael  could  not  help  being  even  more  French  than  most  of  her 
compatriots.  It  therefore  often  happened  that  her  eagerness  for 
development,  her  penetration,  astonished  people  in  England  and 
Holland ;  eminent  men  of  those  reserved  and  prudent  races  were 
surprised  when  they  met  her  for  the  first  time  in  society.  (See 
p.  88  of  the  book  entitled  Notice  et  Souvenirs  Biographiques 
de  Comte  Van  Der  Duyn,  etc.,  collected  and  published  by  the 
Baron  de  Grovestins,  1852.) 


MADAME  DE  STAZL.  73 

Decade  philosophique  met  there  to  dine.  Gingueu4 
sometimes  remarked  this  when  leaving,  and  did  not 
seem  to  be  too  well  pleased  at  this  very  particular 
drawing  of  the  line,  which,  in  his  opinion,  was  rather 
suggestive  of  aristocratic  exclusiveness.  His  com- 
panions soon,  however,  soothed  him  into  tolerance  ; 
while  Mme.  de  Stael's  high-bred  amiability  and 
courteous  gravity  charmed  all. 

The  book  on  Literature  considered  in  connection  with 
Social  Institutions,  appeared  in  1800,  about  a  year  before 
that  other  glorious  and  rival  publication,  which  was 
already  announced  under  the  title  of  Beauties  Moral 
and  Poetic  of  the  Christian  Religion.  Although  the  book 
on  Literature  may  not  since  have  had  the  direct  effect 
or  the  influence  which  might  have  been  expected,  its 
appearance  was  at  the  time  a  great  event  in  intellectual 
circles,  and  it  raised  very  violent  discussion.  We  shall 
try  to  review  it,  and  to  reanimate  some  of  the  actors  in 
the  work,  to  call  them  up  from  those  vast  cemeteries 
called  journals,  where  they  lie  nameless. 

We  have  frequently  remarked  upon  the  striking 
difference  which  exists  between  the  advanced  political 
principles  of  certain  men,  and  the  principles  they 
obstinately  adhere  to  in  literature.  The  liberals  and 
republicans  have  always  scrupulously  displayed  classic 
taste  in  their  literary  theories,  and  it  is  from  the  other 
side  that  the  brilliantly  successful  poetic  innovation 
has  chiefly  come.  The  book  on  Literature  was  destined 
to  precede  this  grievous  inconsistency,  and  the  intellect 
which  inspired  it  would  certainly  have  borne  fruit  in 
all  directions,  if  the  institutions  of  political  liberty 
necessary  to  natural  development  had  not  been  suddenly 
torn  asunder,  with  all  the  ideas,  moral  and  literary, 
which  resulted  therefrom.  In  a  word,  the  younger 
generations,  if  they  had  had  time  to  grow  up  under  a 


74  MADAME  DE  STAKL. 

government  either  honestly  directorial,  or  moderately 
consular,  might  have  been  able  to  develop  in  themselves 
an  inventive,  poetic,  sentimental  inspiration,  which 
would  have  harmonized  with  the  results  of  modern 
philosophy  and  enlightenment,  even  had  there  been 
no  literary  advance  except  that  catholic,  monarchical, 
and  chivalric  reaction,  which  has  divided  the  noblest 
i'aculties  in  all  modern  thought — a  divorce  which  has 
not  yet  ceased. 

The  idea  which  Mme.  de  Stael  never  loses  sight  of  in 
this  work  is  the  spirit  of  modern  progress  ;  each  advance 
she  makes,  each  success,  each  hope,  is  for  the  undefined 
perfectibility  of  the  human  race.  This  idea,  the  germ 
of  which  we  find  in  Bacon  when  he  says,  Antiquitas 
sceculi  juventus  mundi;  which  M.  Leroux  (Revue 
Encyclope'dique,  March  1833)  has  explicitly  demon- 
strated as  existing  in  the  seventeenth  century,  by 
quoting  more  than  one  passage  from  Fontenelle  and 
Perrault ;  and  which  the  eighteenth  has  propagated 
in  all  senses,  till  Turgot,  who  made  it  the  subject  of  his 
Latin  discourse  at  the  Sorbonne,  or  Condorcet,  who 
preached  most  enthusiastic  Lenten  discourses  on  it, — 
this  idea  animated  and  directed  all  Mine,  de  StaeTs 
energies.  "  I  do  not  think,"  she  says,  "  that  this  great 
working  out  of  the  moral  nature  has  ever  been  relin- 
quished ;  during  the  epochs  of  enlightenment,  as  in  the 
dark  ages,  the  gradual  progress  of  the  human  intellect 
has  never  been  interrupted."  And  again  she  says  :  "  In 
studying  history,  it  appears  to  me  that  one  acquires 
the  conviction  that  all  the  principal  events  tend  to 
the  same  end,  universal  civilisation.  .  .  .  With  all  my 
faculties  I  adopt  this  philosophical  belief:  its  chief 
advantage  is  that  it  inspires  to  noble  sentiments." 
Mme.  de  Stael  did  not  subject  to  the  law  of  perfecti- 
bility the  fine  arts,  those  at  least  which  belong  more 


MADAME  DE  STAttL.  75 

particularly  to  the  imagination ;  but  she  believes  in 
the  progress  of  the  sciences,  and  especially  philosophy 
and  history,  also  to  a  certain  extent  poetry,  which, 
being  among  all  the  arts  the  one  which  depends  more 
directly  on  the  imagination,  admits  in  its  modern 
expression  of  an  accent  of  deeper  thoughtful  melan- 
choly, and  an  analysis  of  the  passions  unknown  to 
the  older  poets :  from  this  point  of  view  she  declares 
her  predilection  for  Ossian  and  Werther,  for  the 
Holoise  of  Pope,  Rousseau's  Julie,  and  Amenaide  in 
Tancrtde.  Her  numerous  allusions  to  Greek  literature, 
not  very  trustworthy  in  consequence  of  the  levity  with 
which  the  subject  is  treated,  and  the  paucity  of  detail, 
still  tend  to  give  a  general  idea,  which  remains  correct 
in  spite  of  the  mistakes  and  deficiencies.  The  im- 
posing, positive,  and  eloquently  philosophic  character 
of  the  Latin  literature  we  find  firmly  traced  :  and  we 
feel  that  in  order  to  write  of  it  she  must  have  studied 
Sallust  and  Cicero,  and  that  she  is  conscious  of  existing 
or  possible  similarities  with  her  own  epoch,  with  the 
heroic  genius  of  France.  The  influence  of  Christianity 
on  society  at  the  time  when  the  invading  Barbarians 
mixed  with  the  degenerate  Romans,  is  not  altogether 
ignored  ;  but  this  appreciative  homage  is  never  in- 
consistent with  philosophy.  A  new  and  fertile  idea, 
which  is  very  strongly  urged  in  these  later  days, 
developed  by  the  Saint-Simonism,  and  other  influences, 
belongs,  properly  speaking,  to  Mme.  de  Stael ;  namely, 
that  the  French  Revolution  having  caused  a  veritable 
invasion  of  Barbarians  (into  the  domestic  relations  of 
society),  the  question  then  arose  of  civilising  and 
blending  the  still  rather  rude  issue  of  this  invasion, 
under  a  law  of  liberty  and  equality.  At  this  present 
time  it  is  easy  to  perfect  this  idea  :  in  1789  it  was  the 
bourgeoisie  alone  who  invaded ;  the  people  of  the 


76  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

lowest  ranks  who  forced  the  breach  in  1793,  have  been 
several  times  driven  back  since  then,  while  the  bour- 
geoisie have  vigorously  maintained  their  position. 
At  this  present  time  there  is  a  pause  in  the  invasion 
as  in  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Probus,  or  some  similar 
hero.  New  invasions  threaten,  however ;  and  it  has 
yet  to  be  discovered  if  they  can  be  directed  and  con- 
trolled amicably,  or  if  it  is  impossible  to  evade  the 
path  of  violence.  In  either  case  the  consequent  inter- 
mingling must  at  last  blend  and  co-operate.  Now,  it 
was  Christianity  that  influenced  that  combined  mass 
of  Barbarians  and  Komans :  where  is  the  new  Chris- 
tianity which  will  in  our  day  render  the  same  moral 
service  ? 

"  Happy  would  it  be,"  exclaims  Mme.  de  Stael,  "  if 
we  could  find,  as  at  the  period  of  the  invasion  of  the 
northern  nations,  a  philosophical  system,  a  virtuous 
enthusiasm,  a  strong  and  just  legislation,  which  would 
be  as  the  Christian  religion  has  been,  the  sentiment 
in  which  conquerors  and  conquered  could  unite !  " 

At  a  later  time,  with  advancing  years,  and  less  faith, 
as  we  shall  see,  either  in  new  devices  or  in  unlimited 
human  power,  Mme.  de  Stael  would  have  trusted  in 
nothing  beyond  the  ancient  and  unique  Christian 
religion  for  the  means  of  moral  regeneration  which  her 
prayerful  cry  invokes.  But  the  way  in  which  Chris- 
tianity will  set  to  work  to  regain  its  hold  upon  the 
society  of  the  future,  remains  yet  veiled  ;  and  for  the 
most  religious  thinking  minds,  anxious  consideration 
of  this  great  problem  is  undiminished. 

As  soon  as  the  book  on  Literature  appeared,  the 
Decade  Philosophique  published  three  articles  or  extracts, 
unsigned  and  uninitialed,  giving  a  very  exact  and 
detailed  analysis,  with  critical  remarks  and  arguments, 
in  which  praise  and  justice  were  equally  distributed. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  77 

The  writer  of  these  articles  remarked  that  Ossian  is 
but  an  imperfect  type  of  the  poetry  of  the  north,  and 
that  the  honour  of  representing  northern  poetry  belongs 
by  right  to  Shakespeare.  Apropos  of  Homer's  poems, 
we  also  read  this  passage,  which  points  to  a  writer 
familiar  with  the  various  systems  :  "  Mme.  de  Stael 
admits,  without  any  possibility  of  doubt  or  discussion, 
that  these  poems  are  the  work  of  one  man,  and  belong 
to  an  earlier  date  than  any  other  Greek  poem.  These 
facts  have  often  been  disputed,  and  one  of  the  con- 
siderations which  point  to  the  possibility  of  their 
being  disputed  again,  is  the  difficulty  one  has  of 
reconciling  them  with  several  well-established  facts 
of  the  history  of  human  knowledge."  The  critic 
considers  the  book  defective  in  plan  and  in  method. 
He  adds :  "  Another  objection  is  the  extreme  subtlety  in 
the  combination  of  certain  ideas.  In  some  cases  clear 
and  well-recognised  general  facts  are  explained  in  a 
manner  which  is  too  far-fetched  to  be  probable,  and 
too  minute  to  be  in  proportion  to  the  ascertained 
results."  But  the  power  and  originality  he  praises 
highly.  "These  two  qualities,"  he  says,  "are  all  the 
more  pleasing  because  we  feel  that  they  proceed  from 
a  delicate  and  deep  sensibility,  desirous  of  discovering 
in  objects  their  analogy  to  the  highest  intellectual 
ideas,  and  to  the  noblest  sentiments  of  the  soul." 

In  the  Clef  du  Cabinet  des  Souverains,  a  miscellaneous 
periodical  published  by  Panckoucke,  some  Observations 
on  the  work  of  Mme.  de  Stael  appeared  from  the  pen 
of  the  learned  doctor,  Roussel,  author  of  the  book  on 
Woman,  but  chiefly  a  criticism  of  Daunou,  or  at  least  a 
favourable  analysis,  cleverly  accurate,  with  the  criticisms 
hinted  at  rather  than  expressed,  in  the  discreet  style  of 
this  learned  author,  whose  judgment  carried  so  much 
weight,  and  who  has  a  reputation  for  calm  excellence  in 


78  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

all  he  writes.*  The  Journal  des  De'bats  (11  Messklor, 
year  VIII.)  accepted,  though  somewhat  curtailing  it, 
a  friendly  article  by  M.  Hochet.  Three  days  later,  aa 
if  recovered  from  this  unexpected  event,  it  published, 
under  the  title  of  "  Varietes,"  an  article,  unsigned,  in 
which,  without  naming  Mme.  de  Stae'l,  the  system  of 
perfectibility,  and  the  disastrous  consequences  with 
which  it  is  credited,  are  forcibly,  even  violently  opposed. 
It  said  :  "  The  genius  which  now  presides  over  the 
destinies  of  France  is  a  genius  of  wisdom,  which  has 
before  its  eyes  the  experience  of  centuries,  as  well  as 
that  of  the  Revolution.  It  does  not  lose  itself  in  vain 
theories,  nor  is  it  ambitious  of  the  glory  of  systems  ;  it 
knows  that  men  have  always  been  the  same,  that  their 
nature  will  never  change ;  and  it  seeks  in  the  past 
lessons  wherewith  to  regulate  the  present.  ...  It  does 
not  incline  to  throw  us  into  fresh  troubles  by  trying 
new  experiments,  by  following  up  the  shadow  of  a 
perfection  which  in  the  present  day  one  tries  to  oppose 
to  that  which  exists,  and  which  may  greatly  favour  the 
schemes  of  factionists,  etc." 

But  on  the  subject  of  Mme.  de  Stae'l,  the  most 
celebrated  articles  of  the  day  were  the  two  extracts 
from  Fontanes  in  the  Mercure  de  France. 

The  monarchical,  religious,  and  literary  reaction  of 
1800  was  indeed  represented  in  every  subject,  and  was 
displayed  in  all  directions.  Bonaparte  looked  favour- 
ably upon  this  movement,  because  he  would  necessarily 
profit  by  it,  and  the  agitators  in  this  progress  kept  on 
good  terms  with  Bonaparte,  who  was  not  opposed  to 
them.  The  Journal  des  Debats  solemnly  re-established 
literary  criticism,  and  declared  in  an  article  by  Geoffroy 

*  The  letter  of  thanks  which  Mme.  de  Stae'l  wrote  to  him 
may  be  read  at  page  94  of  the  Documents  Biographiques  sur 
Daunou,  by  M.  Taillandier. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  79 

(30  Prairial,  year  VIII.),  that "  the  extinction  of  factions, 
public  tranquillity  established  on  solid  foundations,  and 
a  strong,  wise,  and  moderate  government,  had  at  length 
given  the  French  nation  leisure  to  recover  itself,  and 
to  collect  its  ideas."  Dussault,  Feletz,  Delalot,  FieVee, 
Saint- Victor,  and  the  Abbe"  of  Boulogne,  wrote  fre- 
quently in  this  journal.  Le  Mercure  de  France  had 
been  revived,  or  rather  reproduced,  and  it  was  in  the 
first  number  of  this  re- publication  that  the  first  article 
by  Fontanes  against  Mme.  de  Stael  appeared.  The 
other  contributors  to  it  were  La  Harpe,  the  Abbd  of 
Vauxcelles,  Gueneau  de  Mussy,  M.  de  Bonald,  M.  de 
Chateaubriand,  and  several  of  the  writers  to  the 
Debats.  Each  member  of  the  Mercure  was  announced 
with  loud  praises  by  its  daily  auxiliary,  which  gave 
long  extracts  from  it.  The  Lycee  in  the  Rue  de  Valois 
had  been  opened  again,  and  La  Harpe  delivered  *  there 
his  brilliant,  earnest  recantations  on  the  eighteenth 
century  and  against  the  Revolution,  which  the  Debats 
of  the  next  day,  and  the  Mercure  that  week,  reproduced, 
or  commented  on.  "  The  chaos  caused  by  ten  troublous 
and  confused  years  is  being  day  by  day  dispelled," 
said  the  Ddbats;  "and  in  order  to  remedy  the  defects 
in  taste,  which  are  the  most  lasting  and  difficult  to 
eradicate,  it  is  proposed  to  re-establish  the  old  Academie 
franfaise"  M.  Michaud  having  returned  from  the 
exile  to  which  the  18th  Fructidor  had  condemned  him, 
published  his  letters  to  Delille  on  PitiJ,  while  pre- 
paring his  poem  on  the  Printemps  d?un  Proscrit,  from 
which  he  caused  quotations  to  be  circulated  in  advance. 

*  I  have  a  doubt  about  this :  it  had  not  been  in  the  Lycee 
itself,  which  remained  faithful  to  the  spirit  of  the  Revolution, 
that  La  Harpe  professed  his  anti-philosophical  recantations,  or 
at  least  his  last.  I  have  heard  contemporaries  speak  of  some 
place  in  the  Rue  de  Provence,  near  the  Rue  de  Mont-Blanc. 


So  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

On  the  occasion  of  the  reprint  in  London  of  the  Polme 
des  Jardins,  the  Virgile  franfais  was  persuaded  to  put 
an  end  to  his  already  voluntary  exile,  and  to  look 
again  as  speedily  as  possible  upon  that  France  now 
worthy  of  him  :  Voltaire's  example  was  quoted  to  him, 
he  who  was  also  in  his  time  a  refugee  in  London,  but 
who  had  not  wantonly  prolonged  a  painful  absence. 
The  appearance  of  the  Genie  du  Christianisme,  a  year 
before  it  was  expected,  added  incomparable  e'clat  to  a 
restoration  already  very  brilliant,  and  surrounded  it 
with  what  is,  after  all,  for  us,  at  this  distance  of  time, 
the  sole  glory  which  redeems  it  from  oblivion. 

Mme.  de  Stael,  who  was  a  child  of  the  Revolution, 
who  was  inspired  by  philosophy,  who  spoke  harshly 
of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  dreamt  of  an  ideal 
republic,  must  have  been  considered  then  by  all  the 
men  of  this  party,  as  an  enemy,  an  adversary. 

In  the  very  first  lines  Fontanes  displays  an  unfriendly, 
fastidious  criticism.  He  extols  the  early  work  of  Mme. 
de  Stael,  consecrated  to  the  glorification  of  Rousseau : 
"Since  that  time  Mme.  de  StaeTs  essays  do  not  appear 
to  have  called  forth  the  same  amount  of  approbation." 
He  first  attacks  the  system  of  perfectibility  ;  he  indicates 
that  Mme.  de  Stael  is  affected  in  her  excited  desire  for 
the  successive  and  continuous  perfection  of  the  human 
intellect,  in  the  midst  of  her  plaints  about  the  sorrows 
of  the  heart  and  the  corruption  of  the  times,  and  points 
out,  that  in  this  she  is  something  like  the  philosophers 
of  whom  Voltaire  speaks  : 

"Who  cried  All  is  well,  in  a  voice  of  misery." 

He  makes  a  great  deal  of.  this  contradiction,  which  is 
but  a  seeming  one.  The  partisans  of  perfectibility,  as 
one  can  understand,  are  specially  severe  on  the  present, 
at  their  mildest  they  abuse  it ;  unbelievers  in  perfecti- 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  81 

Lility  are  less  censorious  of  existing  things,  they  accept 
them  in  a  better  spirit,  endeavouring  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  circumstances.  Fontanes,  following  up 
this  piquant  inconsistency,  maintains  that  every  time  the 
dream  of  perfectibility  takes  possession  of  minds,  empires 
are  threatened  with  the  most  terrible  scourges.  "  The 
learned  Varron  reckoned  in  his  time  two  hundred  and 
eighty-eight  opinions  upon  the  supreme  good  .  .  .  from 
the  time  of  Marius  and  Sylla ;  it  is  a  compensation 
which  the  human  mind  allows  itself."  According  to 
Fontanes,  who  quotes  on  this  subject  an  expression  of 
Condorcet's,  it  is  to  Voltaire,  in  the  first  place,  that  we 
owe  the  consoling  idea  of  perfectibility.  From  this 
point  the  critic  begins  cleverly  to  reduce  the  question, 
till  he  gradually  brings  it  to  the  dimensions  of  the 
following  line  from  the  Mondain  : 

"  Oh,  this  happy  time,  this  age  of  iron  !" — 

which,  in  his  opinion,  is  the  best  and  most  elegant 
epitome  that  can  possibly  be  made  of  all  that  has  been 
uttered  on  this  subject. 

The  grave,  masculine  spirit  of  Mme.  de  Stael  found 
it  specially  hard  to  endure  this  scoffing,  paltry,  foolish 
style  of  harping  back  to  a  quotation  from  the  Mondain. 
She  boiled  with  impatience,  and  exclaimed  among  her 
intimates  :  "  Oh  !  if  I  could  make  myself  a  man,  even 
a  very  little  one,  I  would  settle  matters  once  for  all 
with  these  anti-philosophers  ! "  The  first  article  in 
the  Mercure  ends  with  this  memorable  post  scriptum: 
"When  this  article  was  going  to  press,  chance  threw 
into  our  hands  a  still  unpublished  work,  the  title  of 
which  is  Some  Moral  and  Poetic  Beauties  of  the  Christian 
Religion.  "We  give  a  few  fragments  from  it,  in  which  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  author  has  discussed  in  a  novel 
manner  the  same  questions  as  Mme.  de  Stael."  In 
F 


82  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

this  way  a  kind  of  rivalry  was  at  once  established 
between  Mme.  de  Stael  and  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who 
were  first  set  at  variance  chiefly  by  their  friends. 
Fontanes,  the  patron  and  upholder  of  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand, attacked  the  author  of  La  Literature  in  the 
De'cade ;  Ginguene,  who  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to 
praise  Delphine,  attacked  the  Gdhie  du  Christianisme,  and 
boldly  declared  that  that  work,  so  immoderately  praised 
in  advance,  had  been  eclipsed  at  its  birth.  But  we 
shall  resume  at  greater  length  the  subject  of  the  true 
relations  between  these  two  illustrious  contemporaries. 
In  his  second  extract  or  article,  Fontanes  avenges 
the  Greeks  against  the  irruption  of  the  melancholy 
and  sombre  style, — a  style  peculiar  to  the  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  which  nevertheless  is  very  favourable  to  the 
progress  of  modern  philosophy.  It  seems  that,  in  the 
first  edition,  Mme.  de  Stael  had  used  this  expression, 
afterwards  modified :  "  Anacreon  is  many  centuries 
behind  the  philosophy  which  suits  his  style."  "  Ah  !  " 
exclaims  Fontanes,  "what  woman  worthy  to  inspire 
his  muse  ever  expressed  such  sentiments  regarding  the 
poet-painter  of  love  and  pleasure  ? "  As  regards  the 
dreamy  sadness  in  the  impressions  solitaires,  a  kind  of 
inspiration  which  Mme.  de  Stael  denies  the  Greeks,  he 
asks  where  it  was  ever  better  depicted  than  in  the 
subject  of  Philoctetes :  could  he  have  already  forgotten 
the  confidential  perusal  he  had  just  had  of  Rene"?* 

•The  most  venerable  classical  ancestor  of  the  dreamy, 
melancholy  recluses,  is  certainly  Bellerophon.  Homer  first 
mentions  them  ;  Ausonius,  the  latest  of  the  ancient  writers,  says : 

"Cen  dicitur  olim 

Mentis  inops,  ccetus  hominum  et  vestigia  vitans 
Avia  perlustrasse  vagus  loca  Bellerophontes." 

Bellerophon  has  a  better  claim  than  Philoctetes  to  be  styled  the 
"Rene  and  the  Oberman  of  the  Greek  fable. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  83 

These  articles  are,  however,  full  of  accurate  and  delicate 
details.  When  he  upholds  Homer  against  Ossian,  he 
has  little  difficulty  in  triumphing  ;  and  in  this  quarrel 
of  North  versus  South,  he  aptly  remembers  that  the 
most  melancholy  poems  were  composed  by  the  Arab 
Job  more  than  three  thousand  years  ago.  Here  he 
stops  short,  deferring,  as  he  says,  a  more  extended 
examination  till  a  time  when  the  most  innocent 
questions  "will  not  be  treated  as  affairs  of  State  ;  but  it 
appears  that  it  was  rather  Mme.  de  Stael  who  had  to 
complain  that  her  philosophical  doctrines  were  con- 
strued into  factious  opinions. 

Fontanes'  articles  caused  great  excitement,  and  roused 
the  passions  of  those  whose  opinions  differed  from  his. 
Mme.  Joseph  Bonaparte  abused  them  to  Morfontaine 
the  next  time  she  saw  him.  But  Bonaparte  henceforth 
kept  this  clever  writer  in  view  as  a  convenient  and 
moderate  mouthpiece  acquired  for  his  future  enter- 
prises. 

Is  it  necessary,  after  these  articles  of  Fontanes',  to 
mention  two  short  articles  of  Geoffrey's,  which  only 
bring  forward  the  same  ideas,  minus  the  worldly 
charm  ?  * 

In  issuing  a  second  edition  of  the  book  of  Literature, 
which  appeared  six  months  after  the  first,  Mme.  de 
Stael  tried  to  refute  Fontanes,  and  to  clear  the  question 
of  all  the  cavillings  under  which  it  had  been  obscured. 
Her  only  active  revenge  on  the  critic  was  to  quote  in  a 
laudatory  manner  his  poem,  Jour  des  mcrts  dans  une 

*  These  articles  of  Geoffrey's,  dated  December  1800,  and 
inserted  in  I  know  not  which  newspaper  or  Collection  (probably 
in  his  revived  essay,  L'  Annie  Litteraire),  were  reproduced  in  vol. 
viii.  of  the  Spectateur  fran$aise  au  dix  neuviimc  stecle  ;  in  the 
same  Collection  there  are  other  articles  relative  to  the  polemics 
on  perfectibility. 


84  MADAME  DE  STAEL, 

campagne ;  but  she  is  pitilessly  vehement  against  that 
i'alse  taste  which  may  be  represented  as  an  exact  and 
common  style,  serving  to  clothe  ideas  still  more 
common.  "Such  a  system,"  she  says,  "is  much  less 
exposed  to  criticism.  The  well-known  phrases  are  like 
the  intimate  friends  of  a  household  ;  they  are  allowed 
to  pass  unquestioned.  But  no  fluent  or  thoughtful 
writer  exists  whose  style  does  not  contain  expressions 
astounding  to  those  who  read  them  for  the  first  time, 
or  at  least  to  those  who  are  not  carried  along  by 
sympathy  with  the  ardour  of  the  noble  thoughts 
expressed." 

Mme.  de  Stael  was  not  so  easily  satisfied  as  Boileau, 
writing  to  Brossette,  "  Bayle  is  a  great  genius.  He  is  a 
man  of  a  good  stamp.  His  style  is  very  'plain  and 
clear ;  one  understands  all  he  says."  She  considered, 
and  with  justice,  that  there  is  a  still  better  stamp,  a 
distinction  of  style  superior  to  that.  Her  second 
edition  was  the  occasion  of  an  article  in  the  De'bats, 
which  concluded  by  saying,  as  if  in  reply  to  the  pre- 
ceding passage  of  the  new  preface :  "  All  good  writers 
agree  that  the  form  of  our  language  was  fixed  and 
determined  by  the  great  writers  of  the  last  centuries. 
In  an  idiom  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  what  belongs 
to  taste  and  imagination  from  that  which  has  another 
origin.  In  our  day  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  the 
invention  of  new  words  when  they  become  absolutely 
necessary  ;  but  we  ought  not  to  invent  new  figures  of 
speech,  lest  we  should  alter  the  nature  of  our  language 
or  offend  against  its  genius."  To  this  strange  assertion 
there  was  a  direct  reply  from  the  Decade,  which  seems 
to  me  to  have  been  written  by  Ginguene"  ;  the  philo- 
sophical critic  is  led  to  introduce  a  novelty  in  literature 
in  order  to  refute  the  critic  of  the  Debats,  whose  mind 
does  not  desire  perfection :  "  If  there  had  been  journalists 


MADAME  DE  STARL.  85 

in  the  time  of  Corneille,  had  they  used  such  language, 
and  had  Corneille  and  his  successors  been  foolish 
enough  to  believe  them,  our  literature  would  never 
have  reached  a  higher  standard  of  excellence  than 
Malherbe,  Requier,  Voiture,  and  Brdbeuf.  The  writer 
of  that  article  is  the  man  who  wishes  to  continue 
L' Amide  Litte'raire  of  Fr^ron  ;  he  is  worthy  of  it."  We 
can,  of  course,  see  that  it  is  to  Geoffroy  that  Ginguene 
imputes,  perhaps  wrongly,  the  article  in  the  Dtfbats. 
He  is  naturally  led  to  quote  a  remarkable  note  of 
Lemercier's,  added  to  the  Homeric  poem  which  had  just 
appeared.  "  Pedants,"  said  that  innovator  of  the  time, 
"  animadvert  on  words,  and  do  not  discern  things.  In 
writing  they  give  themselves  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to 
produce  what  they  call  negligence  of  style.  Subligny 
discovered  four  hundred  errors  in  Racine's  Andro- 
maque;  they  immortalized  the  many  verses  in  which 
he  found  them.  Some  criticisms  (which  were  published) 
accused  Boileau  of  not  writing  French  !  Genius  makes 
a  language  of  its  own.  Who  does  not  know  that 
through  Ennius  and  Lucretius,  Horace  and  Virgil  have 
been  attacked  ?  Their  Latin  was  unknown  on  the 
eve  of  the  day  on  which  their  works  appeared.  People 
might  say,  as  usual,  that  this  remark  opens  the  door  to 
bad  taste,  if  that  door  can  ever  be  shut." 

Do  not  these  quotations  give  us  an  idea  of  how  the 
men  of  the  political  and  republican  movement  were  led 
on  by  degrees  to  become  organs  of  the  literary  progress, 
if  the  spontaneous  development  which  began  to  be 
apparent  had  not,  along  with  all  their  hopes,  been 
crushed  by  the  shocks  of  despotism  which  followed. 

In  the  Bibliothtq'iie  universelle  et  historique  of  Le 
Clerc  (1687),  with  regard  to  the  Remarques  of 
Vaugelas,  we  find  (for  such  disputes  have  always 
occurred)  a  learned  and  judicious  protest  by  an  anony- 


86  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

mous  writer,  against  the  rigorous  regulations  imposed 
on  phraseology,  and  against  those  restrictions  of 
metaphor  on  which  the  force  of  the  law  had  been 
brought  to  bear.  Intelligent  literary  people  will  read 
with  agreeble  surprise  this  fragment,  as  it  is  pleasant  to 
find  some  presage  of  1789  in  Fenelon. 

I  confess  that  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  reply  in  words 
which  are  not  my  own,  to  what  I  consider  the  rather 
narrow-minded  literary  theories  accepted  by  our  bold 
politicians,  and  remodelled  by  some  of  otir  obstinate 
young  critics.  The  defenders  of  an  exclusive  taste 
and  a  fixed  language,  are  the  Tories  of  literature ; 
their  cause  is  daily  losing  ground.  Their  business  is 
to  obstruct,  to  preserve ;  well,  so  be  it !  After  each 
advance,  when  a  talent  forces  itself  into  notice,  they 
'would  silence  it ;  they  quickly  raise  up  some  obstacle 
which  new  talents  will  soon  surmount.  Thirty  years 
ago,  they  (or  their  fathers)  disclaimed  Mme.  de  Stae'l 
and  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  and  M.  Lamartine  fifteen 
years  ago ;  now  they  support  them,  are  engrossed  by 
them,  make  them  their  defence  against  chance  comers. 
This  is  an  influence  which  may  have  its  use  and  its 
value,  for  all  talent  requires  to  be  tested,  to  be  held  in 
quarantine  ;  but  we  must  admit  that  the  officer  of  this 
literary  quarantine  requires  a  much  smaller  share  of 
intelligence  and  imagination  to  play  his  part,  than 
would  be  necessary  in  contrary  circumstances. 

The  most  remarkable  article  which  the  book  on 
Literature  produced,  was  a  long  letter  from  M.  de 
Chateaubriand,  inserted  in  the  Mercure  .de  France, 
Niv6se,  year  IX.  The  letter  addressed  to  Citizen 
Fontanes  is  signed  The  author  of  the  Ge"nie  du  Chris- 
tianisme ;  which  book,  although  so  long  heralded,  had 
not  yet  appeared.  The  young  author,  with  perfect 
politeness  and  frequent  compliments  to  the  imagination 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  87 

of  her  against  whom  he  contends,  takes  his  stand  as 
opposed  to  the  system  and  the  principles  professed  by 
her :  "  Mme.  de  Stae'l  ascribes  to  philosophy  what  I 
attribute  to  religion.  .  .  .  You  are  not  unaware  that  it 
is  my  whim  to  see  Jesus  Christ  everywhere,  as  Mme. 
de  StaeTs  is  to  see  perfectibility.  ...  I  am  sorry  that 
Mme.  de  Stae'l  has  not,  in  a  religious  sense,  unravelled 
for  us  the  system  of  the  passions ;  perfectibility  was 
not,  in  my  opinion,  the  instrument  it  was  necessary  to 
make  use  of  in  order  to  measure  weaknesses."  And 
again  :  "  Sometimes  Mme.  de  Stae'l  seems  a  Christian  ; 
a  moment  later,  and  philosophy  resumes  its  sway. 
Sometimes,  inspired  by  her  natural  sensibility,  she 
•allows  her  soul  to  speak  ;  but  suddenly  her  argument- 
ative faculties  awake  again,  and  thwart  the  impulse  of 
the  soul.  .  .  .  Consequently,  this  book  is  a  singular 
mixture  of  truth  and  error."  The  eulogies  bestowed 
on  talent  are  here  and  there  seasoned  with  a  spice  of 
galant  spite :  "  On  love,  Mme.  de  Stae'l  has  written  a 
Commentary  on  Phtdre.  .  .  .  Her  observations  are  acute, 
and  we  see  from  the  lesson  of  the  scholiast  that  she 
understands  her  text."  The  letter  ends  with  an 
eloquent  double  apostrophe :  "  Now  this  is  what  I 
would  venture  to  say  to  her  if  I  had  the  honour  of 
her  acquaintance :  '  You  are  undoubtedly  a  sxiperior 
woman.  You  have  a  wonderful  head,  and  your 
imagination  is  sometimes  full  of  charm,  as,  for 
instance,  when  you  speak  of  Hermione  disguised  as 
a  warrior.  Your  expressions  are  often  noble  and 
brilliant.  .  .  .  But  despite  all  these  advantages,  your 
production  is  far  from  being  as  excellent  as  it  might 
have  been.  The  style  is  monotonous,  unanimated,  and 
too  much  interspersed  with  metaphysical  remarks. 
The  sophistry  repels,  the  erudition  does  not  satisfy, 
and  the  heart  is  made  too  subservient  to  the  intellect. 


88  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

.  .  .  Your  talent  is  but  half  developed ;  philosophy 
stifles  it.'  This  is  how  I  would  speak  to  Mme.  de 
Stael,  with  regard  to  glory.  I  would  add  .  .  .  'You 
appear  to  be  unhappy ;  in  your  works  you  make 
frequent  complaints  that  you  feel  the  need  for  hearts 
that  understand  you.  This  is  because  there  are  certain 
souls  which  search  in  vain  in  nature  for  the  sister 
souls  to  which  they  were  formed  to  be  akin.  .  .  .  And 
how  can  philosophy  fill  the  void  in  our  lives?  Can 
the  desert  be  filled  with  the  desert,  etc.  etc.' " 

Mme.  de  Stael,  always  accessible  to,  and  eager  for, 
admiration,  desired  to  know  the  author  of  the  letter  in 
the  Mercure;  this  first  controversial  exploit  was  thus 
the  origin  of  a  connection  between  the  two  geniuses 
whose  names  and  fame  we  are  accustomed  to  unite. 
Their  connection  was  not,  however,  what  we  should 
of  our  own  accord  imagine  ;  their  camping  grounds  had 
always,  for  both  of  them,  boundaries  clearly  defined 
and  separate.  Across  these  bounds  their  friends,  less 
guarded  than  themselves,  oftentimes  pushed  their 
way.  Sneering  at  Delphine  in  the  same  bitter  tone 
which  Chdnier  afterwards  employed  against  Atala, 
M.  Michaud  wrote  :  "  You  wished  to  make  a  duplicate 
of  the  Gtfnie  du  Christianisme,  and  you  have  given 
us  the  Beautds  po&iques  et  morales  de  la  Philosophic  ; 
you  have  completely  eclipsed  that  poor  Chateau- 
briand, and  I  hope  he  will  consider  himself  ex- 
tinguished." A  worshipper  of  Greek  genius,  of  the 
beauties  of  Homer  and  Sophocles,  the  bard  of  Cymodocee 
and  Eudore,  and  of  the  brilliant  pomps  of  Catholicism, 
M.  de  Chateaubriand,  already  a  finished  artist,  was  not 
easily  converted  to  admiration  of  Mme.  de  StaeTs 
sometimes  rather  hazy  heroes  and  rather  vague  out- 
lines, the  predominance  of  mind  and  purpose  over 
form,  that  great  multitude  of  clever  ideas  discussed 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  89 

conversationally ;  so  he  admired  Mme.  de  Stael  less 
than  she  admired  him.  On  the  other  hand,  whether 
by  chance  forgetfulness,  or  from  some  embarrassment 
on  the  subject,  she  rarely  expresses  any  opinion  of  him 
in  her  numerous  writings.  When,  in  the  evenings  at 
Coppet,  they  read  and  compared  Paul  and  Virginia  and 
the  episode  of  Velleda,  Mme.  de  Stael  rapturously 
placed  the  fierce  and  powerful  beauty  of  the  priestess 
far  above  the,  in  her  opinion,  too  countrified  sweetness 
of  the  other  masterpiece  ;  the  celebrated  article  which 
caused  the.  suppression  of  the  Mercure  in  1807,  also 
drew  from  her  exclamations  of  admiration,*  but  in 
her  works  there  is  scarcely  any  trace  of  such  an 
admiring  testimony.  In  the  preface  to  Delphine, 
the  Genie  du  Christianisme  is  referred  to  as  a  work  the 
originality  and  extraordinary  brilliancy  of  which,  even 
its  enemies  must  admire. 

M.  de  Chateaubriand,  in  an  article  in  the  Mercure 
on  M.  de  Bonald  (December  1802),  returns  the  com- 
pliment by  a  few  lines  of  eulogy  of  Mme.  de  Stael ; 
but  through  all  this  mutual  homage  they  always 
maintained  the  same  position,  an  antagonistic  one.t 
Can  we  not  still  imagine  to  ourselves,  these  two  great 
names,  like  two  summits  on  opposite  shores,  two 
threatening  heights,  under  which  hostile  groups  attack 
and  fight,  but  which  from  afar,  from  our  point  of 
view  as  posterity,  seem  to  unite,  almost  to  join 
together,  and  become  the  double  triumphal  column  at 
the  entrance  of  the  century?  We,  the  generation 

*  The  Souvenirs  of  M.  Meneval  (vol.  i.  page  29)  show  her  to 
us  the  eager  patroness  and  admiring  reader  of  A  tola  and  Rent, 
in  the  society  of  Joseph  Bonaparte  at  Morfontaine  (1801-1802). 

t  M.  de  Chateaubriand  is,  however,  mentioned  honourably, 
but  with  neither  blame  nor  praise,  in  two  places  in  the  book  on 
Germany,  Part  II.  chap,  i.,  and  Part  IV.  chap.  iv. 


90  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

which  has  sprung  up  since  the  Martyrs  and  since 
Corinne,  bow  before  these  two  inseparable  geniuses, 
and  are  influenced  by  the  filial  sentiment  of  which  M. 
de  Lamartine  has  made  himself  the  generous  interpreter 
in  his  Destinies  de  la  Po&ie. 

If,  as  regards  depth  and  artistic  style,  there  are  great 
and  important  differences  between  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
and  Mme.  de  Stael,  we  are  yet  struck  by  the  many 
essential  resemblances  they  present :  both  loving 
liberty,  impatient  of  the  same  tyranny,  capable  of 
feeling  the  incalculable  greatness  of  popular  destinies 
without  abjuring  aristocratic  traditions  and  inclina- 
tions ;  both  working  for  the  revival  of  religious 
sentiment,  in  ways  which  are  rather  different  than 
contrary.  The  Restoration  brought  them  together 
again.  Mme.  de  Duras  was  a  kind  of  bond,*  and  it 
was  to  M.  de  Chateaubriand  that  in  her  last  illness 
Mme.  de  Stael  was  able  to  say  those  beautiful  words  : 
"  I  have  always  been  the  same,  ardent  and  sad  ;  I  have 
loved  God,  my  father,  and  liberty."  However,  in 
politics  they  were  then  opponents,  just  as,  in  former 
times,  philosophy  had  separated  them.  In  her  Con- 
side'rations  sur  la  Revolution  francaise,  which  was 
published  shortly  after  the  death  of  its  author,  M.  de 
Chateaubriand  is  not  mentioned  ;  and  in  an  article  of 
his  in  the  Conservateur  (December  1819),  we  again  find 
one  of  those  compliments  to  Mme.  de  Stael,  always 

*  Mme.  de  Stael  had  a  singular  liking  for  Mme.  de  Duras, 
whom  she  found,  as  she  was  herself,  a  true  person  in  an  arti- 
ficial society.  I  have  read  a  touching  note  which  she  addressed 
to  her  on  the  26th  of  June  1817,  that  is  to  say,  eighteen  days 
before  her  death,  and  which  she  had  dictated  to  her  son  (Auguste 
de  Stael),  being  by  that  time  too  weak  to  write.  She  had 
added  below,  in  her  own  hand,  in  large,  uneven,  shaky  writing  : 
Bien  dcs  compliments  de  ma  part  a  Rent. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  91 

respectful  and  seemly,  but  in  which  admiration  is 
tempered  by  reserve, — the  homage,  in  short,  of  a 
courteous  and  finished  adversary. 

This  too- prolonged  discord  has  ceased  ;  a  woman  * 
who,  by  a  singular  chance,  had  met  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand for  the  first  time  at  Mme.  de  Stael's  house  in 
1801,  who  had  seen  him  again  for  the  second  time  at 
the  same  place  in  1814,  became  the  bond  of  sympathy 
between  both.  In  his  honourable  affection  for  the 
intimate  friend  of  that  high-souled  genius,  for  the 
confidante  of  so  many  loving  thoughts,  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand modified  his  j  udgments,  and  exalted  his  opinions 
on  a  character  and  talent  better  known  to  him  when 
all  formerly  existing  barriers  had  broken  down.  The 
preface  to  the  Etudes  Historiques  gives  proof  of  this 
wider  communion ;  but  more  especially  his  last  me- 
morial will  comprise  a  portrait  of  Mine,  de  Stael,  and 
a  judgment,  which  will  remain  the  noblest,  as  it  is 
certainly  the  highest  and  the  most  worthy  of  her. 
This  is,  at  all  events,  with  so  much  that  is  sad,  in 
surviving  his  illustrious  contemporaries,  one  advantage 
for  a  man  who  is  himself  celebrated,  if  he  possesses  the 
true  reverence  for  glory ;  it  enables  him  at  leisure  to 
crown  their  image,  restore  their  statue,  and  reveren- 
tially to  solemnize  their  tomb.  M.  de  Chateaubriand's 
touching  eulogies  on  Mme.  de  Stael,  his  pilgrimage 
to  Coppet  in  1831,  with  the  sympathetic  friend  who 
forms  the  sacred  bond  between  the  two,  with'  her 
whom  nevertheless  he  did  not  accompany  to  the  depths 
of  that  mournful  sanctuary,  and  who,  with  the  modest 
shyness  of  grief,  desired  to  penetrate  alone  to  that 
grave  among  the  cypress  trees, — this,  by  the  banks  of 
that  Lake  of  Geneva,  so  near  the  places  celebrated  by 
the  author  of  Julie,  will  form  in  the  eyes  of  posterity 
*  Mme.  Recamier. 


92  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

a  mournfully  pathetic  commemoration  rite.  Carefully 
remember,  for  they  honour  our  century,  these  devout 
affinities  of  rival  geniuses,  Goethe  and  Schiller,  Scott 
and  Byron,  Chateaubriand  and  Mme.  de  Stae'l. 
Voltaire  insulted  Jean- Jacques,  and  it  was  the  voice  of 
human  nature  alone  (to  speak  like  Chenier)  which 
reconciled  them.  Racine  and  Moliere,  who  did  not 
love  each  other,  were  silent  about  each  other,  and  we 
feel  pleased  to  know  of  this  social  politeness.  There  is 
indeed  much  poetic  greatness  in  the  world. 

II. 

At  the  period  when  the  book  De  la  Litter ature  was 
published,  Mme.  de  StaeTs  intellectual  cravings  inspired 
her  with  a  noble  public  ambition,  which  she  followed 
more  or  less  earnestly  till  about  1811,  at  which  time 
a  great  and  serious  change  took  place  in  her.  In  the 
former  more  exclusively  sentimental  disposition  from 
which  we  have  considered  her,  Mme.  de  Stael  had 
scarcely  thought  of  literature  except  as  the  organ  of 
sensibility,  the  mouthpiece  of  sorrow.  She  desponds ; 
she  complains  of  false  accusations  ;  she  passes  from  ill- 
sustained  stoicism  to  eloquent  lamentation  ;  she  wished 
to  love ;  she  thought  to  die.  But  she  then  became 
conscious  that  although  one  suffers  very  much,  one  does 
not  die  ;  that  the  faculties  of  thought,  the  power  of  the 
soul,  increase  in  grief  ;  that  she  would  never  be  loved 
as  she  herself  loved  ;  and  that,  therefore,  she  must  find 
for  herself  some  great  employment  for  her  life.  She  then 
thought  seriously  of  making  a  full  use  of  her  talents, 
of  not  allowing  herself  to  be  discouraged  ;  and  since 
there  was  yet  time,  for  the  sun  had  scarcely  begun  to 
go  down,  her  spirit  resolved  to  walk  proudly  in  the 
years  of  middle  life.  "  Let  us  at  last  arise,"  she  cries  in 
the  preface  to  the  book  so  often  quoted, — "  let  us  arise 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  93 

ixnder  the  burden  of  existence  ;  let  us  not  give  to  our 
unjust  enemies,  nor  to  our  ungrateful  friends,  the 
triumph  of  having  crushed  our  intellectual  faculties. 
They  compel  those  to  seek  glory  who  would  have  been 
contented  with  affection  ;  ah,  well !  we  must  attain  it  1 " 
From  henceforth  glory  and  sentiment  openly  and 
equally  shared  the  longings  of  her  soul.  Society  had 
always  been  much  to  her ;  Europe  henceforth  became 
something,  and  this  was  the  great  theatre  in  sight  of 
which  she  aspired  after  vast  enterprises.  Her  beautiful 
ship,  beaten  by  the  tempest  outside  the  harbour, 
weary  with  long  waiting  in  sight  of  the  shore,  ex- 
asperated by  the  delay  and  the  wreck  signals,  departed 
full  sail  for  the  high  seas. 

Delphine,  Corinne,  the  book  De  L'Allemagne,  'were 
the  successive  conquests  of  this  most  glorious  adventure. 
In  1800,  Mme.  de  Stael  was  still  young,  but  that  youth- 
fulness  of  over  thirty  years  was  neither  an  illusion  nor 
a  future  for  her  ;  she  therefore  substituted,  while  it  was 
yet  time,  the  boundless  horizon  of  glory  for  that  of  the 
youth  which  was  already  fading,  the  limits  of  which 
she  could  perceive,  but  which  was  .thus  perpetuated 
and  prolonged ;  and  thus,  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  her 
powerful  talent,  she  advanced  during  these,  the  most 
brilliant  but  unvalued  years. 

Corinne,  and  the  time  immediately  after  its  appear- 
ance, mark  the  dominant  point  in  the  life  of  Mme.  de 
Stael.  Every  human  life,  possessed  of  even  a  little 
greatness,  has  its  sacred  hill ;  every  existence  which 
has  shone  or  reigned  has  its  Capitol.  The  Capitol,  the 
Cape  Misenum  of  Carinne,  is  also  that  of  Mme.  de  Stael. 
From  this  time,  the  lingering  youth  which  fled,  the 
increasing  persecution,  the  broken  or  changing  friend- 
ships, even  sickness  itself,  all  contributed,  as  we  shall 
see,  to  mature  still  more  her  talent,  to  introduce  thia 


94  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

genius,  majestic  and  crowned  with  fame,  into  the  sombre 
years.  Dating  from  1811  especially,  and  searching 
deeply  into  Mme.  de  Stael's  thoughts,  we  shall  gradually 
discover  the  calm  which  religion  brings,  the  sorrow 
that  matures,  the  strength  which  restrains  itself,  and 
that  heart,  till  then  stormy  as  an  ocean,  submissive 
also  like  it,  and  returning  with  meritorious  reluctance 
to  its  determined  limits.  We  shall  see  at  last,  at  the 
end  of  this  triumphal  path  as  at  the  end  of  the  most 
humbly  pious,  we  shall  see  a  cross.  But  as  we  leave 
the  dreams  of  sentiment,  of  hope,  and  romantic  decep- 
tion, we  only  reach  the  years  of  full  activity  and  of 
triumph. 

If  the  book  De  la  Literature  produced  such  a  great 
effect,  the  romance  Delphine,  published  in  the  end 
of  1802,  did  not  cause  less  excitement.  We  may 
imagine  how  fascinating  this  book  was  to  a  society 
excited  by  political  vicissitudes  and  all  the  conflicts  of 
life,  when  the  Gdnie  du  Christianisme  had  just  restored 
religious  discussions  to  honour,  about  the  same  period 
as  the  Concordat  and  the  modification  of  the  divorce 
laws !  Benjamin.  Constant  has  written,  that  it  is 
perhaps  in  the  pages  she  has  dedicated  to  her  father, 
that  Mme.  de  Stael  reveals  herself  most  to  us :  but 
we  always  have  this  feeling  with  every  book  of  hers 
we  read  ;  the  last  volume  we  open  is  the  one  in  which 
we  think  we  recognise  her  best.  This  does  appear  to  me 
specially  true  in  regard  to  Delphine.  "  Corinne,"  says 
Mme.  Necker  de  Saussure,  "is  the  ideal  of  Mme.  de  Stael ; 
Delphine  is  the  real  counterpart  of  her  youth."  Delphine 
became  to  Mme.  de  Stael  a  pathetic  personification  of 
the  years  of  her  pure  sentiment  and  tenderness,  at  a 
time  when  she  was  weaning  herself  from  them, — a  last 
distracting,  backward  glance  of  farewell  at  the  com- 
mencement of  her  public  reign,  on  the  threshold  of 


MADAME  DE  STAZL.  95 

European  glory,   like   the  statue    of   a  heart-broken 
Ariadne  in  the  court  of  a  temple  of  Theseus. 

In  Delphine,  the  author  intended  to  produce  a 
perfectly  natural  romance,  full  of  analysis,  of  moral 
observation,  and  passion.  To  me,  delightful  as  I  find 
nearly  every  page,  it  is  still  not  as  natural,  as  real  a 
romance,  as  I  expected  to  find  it  from  Mme  de  Stael's 
own  prognostics  in  the  Essai  sur  les  Fictions.  It  has 
some  of  the  defects  of  La  Nouvelle  HeTo'ise,  and  the 
letter  form  introduces  too  much  conventionality  in  the 
literary  arrangements.  One  of  the  inconveniences  of 
novels  in  the  form  of  letters  is,  that  at  once  the  char- 
acters have  to  assume  a  tone  in  accord  with  the  part 
they  are  to  play.  From  Mathilde's  first  letter,  her 
hard  blunt  nature  has  to  be  portrayed,  and  we  see  her 
quite  inflexible  even  in  her  devotion.  And  that  no 
misunderstanding  may  arise,  Delphine,  in  replying, 
speaks  to  her  of  that  rigid  rule,  perhaps  necessary  to 
a  kss  sweet  nature;  things  which  are  neither  said  nor 
written  just  at  once  between  persons  accustomed  to  the 
ways  of  the  world,  like  Delphine  and  Mathilde.  Leonce 
begins  in  his  very  first  letter  to  M.  Barton,  to  enlarge 
very  fully  about  his  prepossession  for  honour,  which  is 
his  characteristic.  In  real  life  such  traits  are  shown 
only  proportionately,  and  brought  out  by  degrees 
through  facts.  The  other  method  stamps  the  most 
bewitching  romance  with  a  tone  of  conventionality,  and 
gives  it  a  peculiar  style ;  thus,  in  La  Nouvelle  Heloise, 
all  the  letters  written  by  Claire  d'Orbe  are  necessarily 
gay  and  playful ;  from  the  first  line  a  tone  of  frolic- 
someness  is  the  correct  thing.  In  one  word,  the  char- 
acters of  romances  in  the  form  of  letters,  from  the 
moment  they  take  up  the  pen,  are  always  considering 
how  they  can  present  themselves  to  the  reader  in  the 
most  expressive  attitudes,  under .  the  most  significant 


96  MADAME  DE  STAEL, 

aspects :  tliis  forms  a  rather  unnatural  classical  style 
of  grouping,  unless  the  plot  is  worked  out  very  slowly 
and  with  much  profusion  of  language,  as  in  Clarisse. 
Add  to  this  the  necessity  (which  is  a  very  unlikely  one, 
and  unfavourable  for  emotional  feeling),  that  those 
personages  have  to  shut  themselves  up  to  write,  at 
moments  when  they  have  neither  the  leisure  nor  the 
strength  for  such  employment,  when  they  are  in  bed, 
or  recovering  from  a  fainting  fit,  etc.  etc.  But  after  we 
have  once  admitted  this  defect  in  regard  to  Delphine, 
what  delicacy  and  what  passion  are  mingled !  what 
frank  sensibility,  and  subtle  penetration  of  character  ! 
With  regard  to  these  characters,  it  was  difficult  in  the 
world  of  that  time  to  prevent  people  finding  portraits 
in  them.  I  have  little  belief  in  perfect  portraits  from 
novelists  of  fertile  imagination ;  the  copy  does  not  go 
beyond  the  first  more  or  less  numerous  characteristics, 
which  are  soon  transformed  and  finished  off  differently  ; 
only  the  author  who  creates  the  characters  could 
distinguish  the  invisible  and  tortuous  line  which 
separates  recollection  from  invention.  But  at  that 
period  people  insisted  on  discovering  some  existing 
model  for  each  figure.  If  in  Delphine  there  was  an 
obvious  resemblance  to  Mme.  de  Stael,  who  were 
portrayed  by,  not  perhaps  the  ideal  Leonce,  but  at 
least  M.  de  Lebensei,  Mme.  de  Cerlebe,  Mathilde,  and 
Mme.  de  Vernon?  It  has  been  said  that  Mme.  de 
Cerlebe,  devoted  to  domestic  pursuits  and  the  placid 
uniformity  of  duty,  and  experiencing  infinite  delight  in 
the  educating  of  her  children,  was  very  much  like  Mme. 
Necker  de  Saussure,  who  besides,  like  Mme.  de  Cerlebe, 
also  worshipped  her  father.  People  have  thought  they 
recognised  in  M.  de  Lebensei,  the  Protestant  gentleman 
with  the  manners  of  an  Englishman,  the  man  who  was 
the  most  remarkably  talented  man  it  iuas  possible  to  meet, 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  97 

a  most  remarkable  likeness  to  Benjamin  Constant ; 
but  in  this  case,  only  one  part  of  the  portrait,  the 
brilliant  side,  would  have  been  true  ;  and  at  least  half 
of  the  solid  virtues  with  which  M.  de  Lebensei  is 
credited  could  not  apply  to  the  presumed  original, 
excepting  by  way  of  counsel,  or  as  expressing  regret 
over  their  absence.*  As  regards  Mme.  de  Vernon,  the 
best  drawn  character  in  the  book,  according  to  Chenier 
and  all  the  critics,  people  imagined  they  discovered 
there  a  portrait,  changed  and  disguised  as  a  woman,  of 
our  most  famous  politician,  of  him  whom  Mme.  de 
Stael  had  first  caused  to  be  struck  off  the  list  of  political 
&nigr&  whom  she  had  pushed  forward  into  power 
before  the  18th  Fructidor,  and  who  had  rewarded  her 
for  that  active  warmth  of  friendship  only  by  the  most 
carefully  polite  selfishness.t 

When  Delphine  was  composed,  the  incident  of  the 
dinner  which  is  mentioned  in  the  Dix  Annies  de  Exit 
had  already  taken  place.  "The  day,"  says  Mme.  de 
Stael,  "  on  which  the  signal  of  the  opposition  was  given 
in  the  Tribunate,  by  one  of  my  friends,  I  had  invited 
to  my  house  several  persons  whose  society  pleased  me 
much,  but  who  had  all  joined  the  new  Government.  I 
received  ten  notes  of  excuse  at  five  o'clock  ;  I  was  not 
put  about  by  the  first  or  the  second,  but  as  the  notes 
succeeded  each  other,  I  began  to  be  anxious." 

The  man  she  had  so  generously  served,  avoided  her, 
then,  in  that  perfectly  polite  way  in  which  one  sends  an 
excuse  for  not  accepting  a  dinner  invitation.  Admitted 
to  new  greatness,  he  would  in  no  way  commit  himself 
to  support  her  who  was  so  soon  to  be  exiled.  He  does, 
perhaps,  justify  her  in  ffdros,  but  in  that  same  doubt- 

*  This  other  aspect  of  the  character  of  M.  de  Lebensei  really 
resembles  M.  de  Jaucourt. 
t  Talleyrand.— Tr. 

G 


98  MADAME  DE  STA£L. 

f  ul  manner  which  succeeded  so  well  when  Mme.  Vernon 
justifies  Delphine  to  Ldonce.  Mme.  de  Stael,  like 
Delphine,  could  not  live  without  forgiving  :  she  wrote 
from  Vienna  in  1808  to  this  same  personage  as  to  an 
old  friend  on  whom  one  can  rely  ;  *  she  recalls  the  past 
to  him  without  any  bitterness.  "You  wrote  to  me 
thirteen  years  ago  from  America,  If  I  remain  here  a 
year  longer,  I  shall  die ;  I  can  say  the  same  of  my 
absence  abroad,  I  am  overcome  with  grief  here."  She 
added  these  words,  so  full  of  indulgent  sadness  :  "  Adieu, 
— are  you  happy  1  With  talents  so  superior,  do  you 
not  sometimes  sound  the  depth  of  everything,  that  is  to 
say,  even  sorrow  1 " 

But  without  venturing  to  contend  that  Mme.  de 
Vernon  may  be  in  all  ways  a  slenderly  disguised 
portrait,  without  having  too  strong  a  desire  to  identify 
with  the  model  in  question  that  clever  woman,  whose 
seductive  amiability  makes  one  feel  by  comparison  harsh 
and  discontented,  that  woman  whose  acts  are  so  com- 
plicated and  her  conversation  so  simple,  whose  speech 
is  so  soft  and  her  silence  so  dreamy,  whose  talent  is 
only  for  conversation,  neither  for  reading  nor  thinking, 
and  who  escapes  from  ennui  by  gambling,  etc.  etc., — 
without  going  so  far  as  this,  it  has  been  impossible  to 
help  being  at  least  influenced  by  the  application  of  a 
more  innocent  feature.  "No  one  knows  better  than 
myself,"  says  Mme.  de  Vernon  in  one  place  (Letter  xxviii. 
Part  I.),  "  how  to  make  use  of  indolence  ;  it  helps  me 
naturally  to  baffle  the  activity  of  others.  ...  I  have 
not  four  times  in  my  life  given  myself  the  trouble  of 
insisting,  but  when  I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  take  this 
fatigue,  nothing  turns  me  from  my  aim,  I  attain  it ; 
take  my  word  for  it."  In  this  passage  I  saw  myself  a 
trait  applicable  to  the  clever  indolence  of  the  personage 
*  See  Revue  Retrospective,  No.  9,  June  1834. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  99 

BO  much  extolled,  when,  one  evening,  I  heard  a  clever 
diplomatist,  of  whom  some  one  asked  if  he  intended 
soon  to  appear  at  his  post,  reply,  that  he  was  in  no 
hurry,  he  was  waiting.  "  I  was  still  quite  young,"  he 
added,  "  when  M.  de  Talleyrand  instructed  me  in  one 
essential  line  of  conduct :  Do  not  be  zealous  ! "  Is  not 
this  exactly  Mme.  de  Vernon's  principle  ? 

Since  we  are  on  the  subject  of  the  possibly  real  traits 
of  character  portrayed  in  Delphine,  do  not  let  us  over- 
look, among  others,  one  which  (artlessly)  reveals  to  us 
the  devoted  heart  of  Mine,  de  Stael.  In  the  chief 
catastrophe  of  Delphine  (I  speak  of  the  older  event, 
which  remains  the  iinique  and  beautiful  one),  the 
heroine,  after  having  exhausted  every  supplication  to 
the  judge  of  Leonce,  perceives  that  the  child  of  the 
magistrate  is  ill,  and  she  exclaims,  with  a  sublime  cry, 
"  Very  well !  your  child, — if  you  deliver  up  Le"once  to 
the  tribunal,— your  child,  I  say,  will  die  !  he  will  die  ! " 
This  cry  of  Delphine's  was  really  uttered  by  Mme.  de 
Stael,  when,  at  the  end  of  the  18th  Fructidor,  she  rushed 
up  to  General  Lemoine  to  plead  with  him  for  the 
pardon  of  a  young  man  she  knew  to  be  in  clanger  of 
being  shot,  and  who  was  no  other  than  M.  de  Norbins. 
The  sentiment  of  compassion  impetuously  governed 
her,  and,  once  roused,  left  her  no  peace.  In  1802, 
uneasy  about  Chenier  menaced  with  proscription,  she 
hurried  at  daybreak  to  offer  him  shelter,  money,  and  a 
passport.*  How  often  in  1792,  and  at  all  times,  do  we 
not  see  her  thus  !  "  My  political  opinions  are  proper 
names,"  she  said.  Not !  .  .  .  that  her  political  opinions 
were  strong  principles ;  but  proper  names,  that  is  to 
eay,  persons,  friends,  the  unknown,  all  who  lived  and 
suffered,  were  considered  in  her  generous  imagination 

*  See  notice  on  M.  J.  Chenier,  heading  his  works,  by  51, 
Dauuou. 


loo  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

and  she  did  not  know  what  an  abstract  principle  of 
justice  meant,  with  one  who  silenced  his  human 
sympathies. 

When  Delphine  appeared,  criticism  was  boundless,  for 
it  had  found  a  fruitful  subject.  Indeed,  all  the  opinions 
on  religion,  on  politics,  or  on  marriage,  although  dating 
in  the  romance  from  1790  and  1792,  were  singularly 
appropriate  in  1802,  depicting  as  they  did  old  passions 
and  new  problems.  The  Journal  des  Debats  (December 
1802)  published  an  article,  signed  "A,"  said  to  have 
been  written  by  M.  de  Feletz,  a  bantering  kind  of 
article,  full  of  stinging,  waspish  remarks,  but  at  the 
same  time  strictly  polite  ;  the  critic  of  the  salon  became 
also  the  reproachful  mouthpiece  of  reviving  society 
circles.  "Nothing  could  be  more  dangerous  or  more 
immoral  than  the  principles  set  forth  in  this  book.  .  .  . 
Forgetting  the  principles  in  which  she  has  been  brought 
up  in  a  Protestant  family,  and  as  the  daughter  of  M. 
Necker,  the  author  of  Religious  Opinions  profanes 
revelation  ;  the  daughter  of  Mme.  Necker,  who  is  the 
writer  of  a  book  against  divorce,  makes  long  arguments 
in  favour  of  divorce."  Altogether,  Delphine  was  styled 
"  a  very  bad  book,  written  with  cleverness  and  talent." 
This  article  appears  to  have  been  insufficient,  for  the 
same  paper  inserts,  a  few  days  later  (4th  and  9th  of 
January  1803),  two  letters  addressed  to  Mme.  de  Stael, 
and  signed  L'Admireur;  they  were  from  the  pen  of  M. 
Michaud.  The  man  of  talent  and  taste  who  was 
induced  to  make  these  attacks  was  young,  and  carried 
away  by  party  feeling  thus  to  revenge  himself  for 
political  defeat,  but,  having  gracefully  withdrawn  his 
accusations,  he  will  excuse  us  for  noticing  his  too  hurt- 
ful vehemence.  The  first  letter  confined  itself  to  a 
discussion  of  the  characters  of  the  romance  judged  to  be 
immoral.  Delphine  is  compared  with  the  heroine  of  an 


MADAME  DE  STARL.  101 

unwholesome  romance,  in  the  same  way  as  in  our  own 
day  Lelia  has  been  styled  pernicious.  The  second 
letter  attacks  the  style  more  particularly ;  the  fault- 
finding is  at  times  legitimate,  and  of  a  free  and  easy, 
rather  pleasant  kind.  "  What  a  powerful  sentiment  love 
is  !  What  else  is  worth  living  for  !  When  your  char- 
acters make ,  melancholy  reflections  on  the  past,  one 
exclaims,  I  have  spoiled  my  life ;  another  says,  /  have 
missed  my  object  in  life ;  while  a  third,  trying  to  outdo 
the  two  first,  says,  /  believe  that  I  alone  have  properly 
understood  life."  *  The  high  principles,  the  imagery  based 
on  thoughts  of  eternity,  the  strata  of  the  centuries,  the 
limits  of  the  soul,  the  mysteries  of  fate,  the  souls  exiled 
from  love, — this  kind  of  phraseology,  half  sentimental, 
half  spiritualistic,  and  certainly  allowable,  partly 
Genevese,  incoherent,  and  very  contestable,  is  in  this 
article  lengthily  scoffed  at.  M.  de  Feletz  had  himself 
abstracted  a  few  inaccuracies  of  style,  such  words  as 
insistence,  persistence,  vulgarity,  which,  notwithstanding 
his  condemnation,  have  passed  uncensured.  If  we 
were  to  criticise  the  detail  of  Delphine,  we  could  pick 
out  many  repetitions,  many  incongruities,  a  thousand 
oft-recurring  little  faults,  from  which  Mme.  de  Stael 
was  not  exempt,  and  into  which  an  artistic  author 
never  falls. 

Mme.  de  Stael,  on  whom  the  malice  of  the  remarks 
made  had  no  effect,  afterwards  graciously  pardoned  the 

*  The  impartial  or  inquiring  critic  will  be  able  to  read  a 
justification  of  Mme.  de  Stael  on  this  point,  and  also  a  very 
high  appreciation  of  Delphine  in  general,  in  the  book  I  have 
already  quoted,  Notice  et  Souvenirs  Biographiques  du  Comte 
Van  Der  Duyn  (1852).  At  page  386  of  the  Journal  de 
Lecture  by  this  estimable  Dutchman,  there  is  an  article  full 
of  sound  judgment,  entitled  De  certainea  Hardiesses  de  Style 
reprocMes  d  Mme.  de  StaeL 


102  MADAME  DE  STA8L. 

writer  of  these  letters  when  she  met  him  at  M.  Suard's, 
in  that  neutral  and  conciliating  salon  of  an  intellectual 
man,  whom  age  and  experience,  and  the  learning 
acquired  from  famous  contemporaries,  had  sufficed  to 
render  great  in  his  turn.  The  journal  which  M.  Suard 
then  edited,  Le  Publiciste,  although  from  a  literary  point 
of  view  it  might  have  made  captious  remarks  on  several 
points  in  Delphine,  did  not  take  part  in  the  dispute, 
and  spoke  very  favourably  of  it  in  an  article  inspired 
by  the  good  feeling  of  M.  Hochet. 

About  the  same  time,  Le  Mercure  published  an  article 
signed  "F,"*  but  so  bitter  and  personal  that  the 
Journal  de  Paris,  which,  through  the  pen  of  M.  de 
Villetergue,  had  judged  the  romance  severely  enough, 
especially  its  morality,  was  unable  to  help  expressing 
its  astonishment,  that  an  article  written  in  such  a  style 
should  be  found  in  the  Mercure  side  by  side  with  an  article 
signed  La  Harpe,  and  under  the  initial  letter  of  a  man 
dear  to  the  friends  of  good  sense  and  decorum.  The 
words  were  these  (and  I  do  not  choose  the  worst  to 
quote)  :  "  Delphine  speaks  of  Love  in  the  manner  of  a 
Bacchante,  of  God  in  that  of  a  Quaker,  of  Death  in  that 
of  a  grenadier,  and  of  morality  as  a  sophist."  Fontanes, 
who  was  suspected  on  account  of  the  initial,  wrote  to 
the  Journal  de  Paris  to  repudiate  the  article,  which 
was  in  reality  written  by  the  author  of  Dot  et  Suzette, 
and  Frederic.  Have  we  not  in  our  own  day  witnessed 
an  outburst  of  a  similar  description,  against  a  woman,  t 
one  of  the  most  eminent  the  literary  world  has  beheld 
since  the  authoress  of  Delphine  ?  In  the  D&ats  of  the 
12th  February  1803,  Gaston  gives  a  sketch  of  a  pamphlet 
of  800  pages  (was  this  only  a  joke  of  the  journalist  ?), 
entitled  (The  Converted)  Delphine;  he  gave  extracts  from 
it :  one  of  the  characters  is  supposed  to  say  to  Mme.  de 
*  Fievee.  f  Georges  Sand. 


MADAME  DE  STA&L.  103 

Stael,  "I  have  just  entered  on  the  career  which  many 
women  have  pursued  successfully,  but  I  have  taken  as 
my  model  neither  the  Princess  de  Cloves,  nor  Caroline, 
nor  Adele  de  Se'nange."  This  malicious  pamphlet,  if 
indeed  it  ever  existed,  in  which  envy  swells  into  a  large 
book,  appears  only  to  be  a  collection  of  incongruous 
phrases  pirated  from  Mme.  de  Stael,  and  strung  together 
in  the  most  unnatural  style.  Mme.  de  Genlis,  returning 
from  Altona  to  preach  morality,  wrote  for  the  Biblio- 
thtque  des  Romans,  a  lengthy  novel,  in  which,  by  the 
aid  of  truncated  explanations  and  artificial  interpreta- 
tions, she  manages  to  represent  Mme.  de  Stael  as 
defending  suicide.  Mme.  de  Stael  revenged  herself  by 
praising  warmly  Mademoiselle  de  Clefmont,  "  She  attacks 
me,"  she  remarked,  "  and  I  defend  her ;  thus  our 
intercourse  ceases."  Mme.  de  Genlis,  after  this,  in  her 
Memoires,  accused  Mme.  de  Stael  of  ignorance,  as  before 
she  had  called  her  immoral.  But  we  pardon  her,  for 
she  made  amends  in  the  end,  in  a  kindly  novel  entitled 
Aihenais,  of  which  we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak 
again.  A  friendly  influence,  accustomed  to  work  such 
gentle  miracles,  had  appealed  to  her.* 

In.  speaking  of  a  work  so  pathetic  ae  Delphine,  we 
ask  to  be  excused  that  we  have  not  chosen  to  confine 
ourselves  to  the  touching  scenes  of  Bellerive  or  the 
Gardens  of  the  Champs-Elysees,  rather  than  recall  these 
bitter  clamours,  and  raise  up  so  much  old  dust ;  but  it 
is  a  good  plan,  when  we  wish  to  follow  or  retrace  a 
triumphal  march,  to  endure  the  crowd  as  well,  to  show 
the  car  just  as  it  was,  encompassed  with  difficulties, 
and  also  applauded. 

The  violence  of  the  attacks  drew  out  justification ; 
Mme.  de  Stael's  friends  were  indignant,  and  she  was 
most  energetically  defended.     Of  two  articles  inserted 
*  Mme.  Recnmier. 


104  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

in  the  Decade,  the  first  begins  as  follows :  "  No  work 
for  a  long  time  lias  so  engrossed  public  attention  as  this 
romance ;  it  is  a  kind  of  success  which  it  is  not  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  obtain,  for  it  is  one  which  has 
to  be  paid  for.  Several  journalists,  whose  opinion  of  a 
book  we  can  guess  from  the  name  of  the  author,  have 
inveighed  against  Delphine,  or  rather,  against  Mme.  de 
Stael,  like  people  reckless  of  their  words.  .  .  .  They  have 
attacked  a  woman,  one  with  the  rudeness  of  a  Collegiate 
(Ginguene"  seems  to  have  imputed  to  Geoffroy,  against 
whom  he  had  a  spite,  one  of  the  hostile  articles  we  have 
mentioned  above),  another  with  the  persiflage  of  common 
wit,  and  all  with  the  boasting  security  of  cowardice." 
After  numerous  appreciative  quotations,  coming  to  the 
part  in  which  there  are  certain  strained  modes  of 
expression,  certain  new  words  or  terms,  Ginguend 
judiciously  remarks:  "These  are  not  really  errors  of 
the  language,  but  blunders  which  a  woman  of  so  much 
wit  and  true  talent  will  have  no  difficulty  in  overcom- 
ing if  she  wishes  to  do  so."  What  Ginguene^  did  not 
remark  on,  and  what  he  might  well  have  opposed  to 
the  vulgar  accusations  of  impiety  and  immorality  which 
the  coarse  or  priggish  critics  talked  so  loudly  about,  is 
the  exalted  eloquence  of  the  religious  thoughts  which 
we  find  expressed  in  many  pages  of  Delphine,  as  if  in 
emulation  of  the  Catholic  theories  of  the  Genie  du 
Christianisme :  for  instance,  the  letter  of  Delphine  to 
L^once  (xiv.  Part  III.),  where  she  tries  to  persuade  him 
to  a  belief  in  natural  religion  and  the  universal  hope 
of  immortality  ;  and  again,  when  M.  de  Lebensei  (xvii. 
Part  IV.),  writing  to  Delphine,  combats  the  Christian 
idea  of  sorrow  perfecting  the  religious  life,  and  invokes 
the  law  of  nature,  as  leading  men  to  goodness  by  gently 
alluring  the  inclinations.  Delphine  is  not  convinced  ; 
she  does  not  believe  that  the  attractive  system  put 


MADAME  DE  STAE.L.  105 

before  her  responds  to  all  the  real  combinations  of  fate, 
and  that  happiness  and  virtue  go  hand  in  hand  on  this 
earth.  Unquestionably  it  is  not  the  Catholicism  of 
Therese  d'Ervins  which  triumphs  in  Delphine ;  the 
design  here  is  Protestant,  a  Unitarian  Protestantism, 
differing  very  little  from  that  of  the  Savoyard  Vicaire  ; 
but  among  the  Pharisees  who  exclaim  of  its  impiety, 
I  have  difficulty  in  discovering  any  among  them  for 
whom  even  these  philosophic  and  natural  beliefs,  if 
seriously  adopted,  would  not  have  been,  as  compared  to 
their  own  faith,  an  immense  moral  and  religious  gain. 
As  for  the  accusation  that  Delphine  attacks  the  sanctity 
of  marriage,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  on  the  contrary,  that 
the  most  conspicuous  idea  in  the  book  is  the  desire  for 
happiness  in  the  married  state,  and  a  profound  convic- 
tion of  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  happiness  other- 
wise. I  also  remark  her  recognition  or  acknowledgment 
that  the  most  frequent  cause  of  the  wreck  of  this 
happiness,  even  with  the  most  tender  and  virtuous  love, 
is  the  want  of  social  harmony  in  life.  This  idea  of 
happiness  in  the  married  state  has  always  haunted  Mme. 
de  Stael,  as  romantic  fancies  importunately  haunt  the 
minds  of  those  who  have  no  actual  experience  of 
romance.  In  the  Influence  of  the  Passions,  she  speaks 
with  great  pathos  of  an  old  married  couple  who  were 
still  lovers,  whom  she  had  met  in  England.  In  the 
book  on  Litte'rature,  we  mark  the  pleasure  with  which 
she  quotes  the  beautiful  verses  which  terminate  Thom- 
son's song  on  Spring,  where  that  perfect  union,  which 
in  her  case  is  conspicuous  by  absence,  is  glorified.  In 
one  of  the  chapters  of  Germany  she  returns  to  this 
subject  with  such  a  virtuous,  almost  grateful,  tone  in 
her  reflections,  that  we  are  touched,  especially  when  we 
compare  that  page  with  the  hidden  facts  which  inspired 
it.  In  Delphine,  the  happy  picture  of  the  Belmont 


io6  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

family  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  that  domestic  Eden 
always  longed  for  by  her  among  all  her  trials. 

M.  Necker  in  his  Cours  de  Morale  religieuse,  loves 
also  to  dwell  on  the  subject  of  happiness  secured  by 
the  sanctity  of  the  marriage  bond.  Mme.  de  Stael,  in  so 
frequently  returning  to  this  dream,  had  not  far  to  seek 
for  her  imagery  ;  setting  aside  her  own  experiences,  her 
imagination  found  its  model  close  at  hand  ;  failing  her 
own,  she  could  recall  to  her  memory  her  mother's 
felicity,  and  plan  and  prophesy  her  daughter's.* 

But,  after  all,  with  all  our  partiality,  we  must  acknow- 
ledge that  Delphine  is  a  disturbing  study,  and  one 
which  we  do  not  counsel  perfect  innocence  to  test, 
although  for  minds  to  whom  real  trouble  has  come, 
and  who  are  like  to  be  overwhelmed  by  prosaic  dis- 
enchantment, it  may  often  effect  a  healthy  awakening 
from  sentimental  brooding.  It  is  a  fortunate  disturb- 
ance which  tempts  us  back  to  the  emotions  of  love,  and 
restores  to  us  the  faculty  of  youthful  devotion  ! 

In  return  for  the  gracious  manner  in  which  the 
D&ade  had  spoken,  and  for  the  support  given  to  her  by 
the  writers,  litterateurs,  and  philosophers  of  that  school, 
Mme.  de  Stael  has  always  spoken  well  of  them  in  her 
works.  Excepting  Chenier,  about  whom  she  makes  a 
few  rather  severe  remarks  in  her  Considerations,  she 
has  never  mentioned  one  of  this  literary  and  philo- 
sophic group  but  with  generous  recognition  of  old  ties  of 
friendliness  and  kindly  feeling.  But  her  exile  in  the 
end  of  the  year  1803,  her  travels,  her  existence  as  the  lady 
paramount  at  Coppet,  her  connections  in  Germany, 
and  her  aristocratic  relations,  from  this  time  brought 
her  into  another  sphere,  which  soon  dispelled  that 

•  Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Broglie  was  ver,y  early  enraptured  with 
ideas  of  family  felicity,  and  always  retained  an  instinctive 
respect  for  those  who  had  once  experienced  it. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  107 

suggestion  inspired  by  the  events  of  the  year  III.,  of 
which  we  have  tried  to  catch  a  glimpse.  Forced  to 
leave  Paris,  she  at  once  directed  her  steps  towards 
Germany,  practised  reading  and  speaking  German, 
visited  Weimar  and  Berlin,  and  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Goethe  and  the  Prussian  princes.  She  collected  the 
first  materials  for  the  work,  which  a  second  visit,  in 
1807-8,  enabled  her  to  complete.  To  launch  forth  thus 
suddenly  beyond  the  Rhine  was  her  brusque  way  of 
breaking  with  Napoleon,  who  was  greatly  irritated. 
It  was  breaking  also  with  the  philosophical  customs  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  which,  to  all  appearance,  she 
had  just  so  gloriously  espoused.  Thus  do  great  minds 
act ;  they  are  already  at  another  pole  when  we  suppose 
them  to  be  still  at  the  opposite  one.  Like  the  rapid 
strategy  of  indefatigable  generals,  they  kindle  their 
fires  on  the  heights,  and  are  supposed  to  be  encamped 
behind  them,  when  they  are  already  many  miles  on 
their  march,  and  will  attack  the  enemy's  flank. 

The  death  of  her  father  brought  Mme.  de  Stael  back 
very  suddenly  to  Coppet.  When  her  first  mourning 
had  calmed  down,  and  after  the  publication  of  some  of 
M.  Necker's  manuscripts,  she  left  again  (1804),  to  visit 
Italy.  A  love  of  nature  and  of  art  awoke  in  her  under 
new  skies.*"  Delphine  confesses  somewhere  that  she 
does  not  care  for  pictures,  and  when  she  walks  in  the 
gardens  she  is  much  more  interested  in  the  urns  and 

*  Mme.  de  Stael's  love  of  art  was  always  an  acquired  taste, 
exotic,  like  a  plant  which  never  grew  in  the  open  air.  Her 
nature  is  very  well  described  in  a  letter  which  Goethe  wrote 
from  Weimar,  on  the  27th  of  February  1804,  to  his  friend,  Zelter 
the  composer,  who  lived  in  Berlin.  "Professor  Wolf  and 
Counsellor  Miiller  have  stayed  a  fortnight  at  Weimar ;  Woss 
spent  several  days  ;  and  we  have  already  had  Mme.  de  Stael  four 
weeks.  This  extraordinary  woman  is  going  to  Berlin  soon,  and 
1  shall  give  her  a  note  of  introduction  to  you.  Go  and  see  her 


108  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

monuments  than  in  nature  pure  and  simple.  But  that 
autumnal  haze  which  envelopes  the  horizon  of  Bellerive 
fades  under  the  purity  of  Roman  skies  ;  all  the  gifts  of 
the  muses  which  are  to  adorn  the  train  of  Corinne  now 
hasten  to  develop.* 

Having  returned  to  Coppet  in  1805,  and  being 
occupied  with  the  writing  of  her  Roman  romance, 
Mme.  de  Stael  could  no  longer  remain  at  such  a  distance 
from  Paris,  that  unique  central  point,  where  she  had 
shone,  and  in  the  sight  of  which  she  aspired  to  greater 
glory.  It  was  at  this  time  she  displayed  that  increasing 
restlessness,  that  mal  de  la  capitale, — home  sickness,  so 
to  speak, — which  no  doubt  detracts  a  little  from  the 
dignity  of  her  exile,  but  which  at  the  same  time  betrays 
the  passionate  sincerity  of  all  her  impulses.  An  order 
from  the  police  compelled  her  to  remain  forty  miles 
from  Paris.  Instinctively  and  stubbornly,  like  the  noble 
steed  attached  to  a  stake,  who  strains  his  tether  in 
every  direction,  or  like  the  maligned  fly,  which  inces- 
santly dashes  itself  against  the  window-pane,  she  reaches 
the  settled  limit,  she  goes  to  Auxerre,  to  Chelons,  to 
Blois,  to  Saumur ;  and  within  the  boundaries  which 
she  is  for  ever  disputing  and  encroaching  upon,  her 
unexpected  visits  to  her  friends  become  a  knowing 
strategy,  a  game  of  chess,  which  sheplayed  with  Bonaparte 
and  Fouchd,  or  th  eir  representatives,  more  or  less  rigorous. 
When  she  was  allowed  to  settle  at  Rouen,  we  see  her  at 
first  triumphant,  for  she  has  gained  a  few  miles  in  the 
geometrical  radius.  But  such  provincial  towns  offered 

soon  ;  she  is  easy  to  get  on  with,  and  your  music  will  certainly 
give  her  great  pleasure,  although  literature,  poetry,  philosophy, 
and  things  akin,  interest  her  more  than  art." 

*  It  must  have  been  during  her  stay  at  Rome  (in  1805)  that 
M.  Aug.  Wil.  Schlegel,  who  accompanied  Mme.  de  Stael, 
addressed  to  her  the  Elegy  entitled  Home. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  109 

little  by  way  of  resource  to  a  mind  so  active  and  so  envi- 
ous for  the  accent  and  the  words  of  the  pure  Athenes.* 
Contempt  for  every  description  of  meanness  or  of  medi- 
ocrity was  distasteful  to  her,  choked  her.  She  was  able  to 
confirm  and  make  her  own  comments  on  the  amusing 
play  of  Picard.  Even  Benjamin  Constant's  wonderful 
conversational  powers  were  scarcely  able  to  charm 
away  her  vapours.  "  Poor  Schlegel,"  she  said,  "  is  half 
dead  of  ennni;  Benjamin  Constant  comes  off  better 
with  his  animals."  Travelling  at  a  later  date  (1808)  in 
Germany  :  "  All  I  see  here  is  better,  more  learned,  more 
enlightened,  perhaps,  than  France ;  but  the  smallest 
inch  of  France  is  worth  more  to  me."  Two  years  after- 
ward, in  provincial  France,  she  did  not  hold  to  that ; 
or  did  she  mean  it  only  of  Paris,  which  was  the  only 
place  in  the  world  for  her  ? 

At  last,  thanks  to  the  toleration  of  Fouche,  who  acted 
on  the  principle  of  doing  the  least  possible  amount 
of  evil  when  it  was  useless,  a  way  was  found  to 
allow  her  to  settle  eighteen  miles  from  Paris  (what  a 
conquest !)  at  Acosta,  an  estate  belonging  to  Mme.  de 
Castellane  ;  from  there  she  superintended  the  publish- 
ing of  Corinne.  In  returning  her  proof-sheets,  she  must 
often  have  echoed  Ovid  :  "  Go,  my  book,  happy  book, 
which  goest  to  town  without  me  ! "  "  Oh,  the  gutter  of 
the  Rue  du  Bac ! "  t  she  would  exclaim,  when  the  mirror 
of  Leman  was  pointed  out  to  her.  And  at  Acosta  as  at 
Coppet,  so  she  felt ;  more  longingly  than  ever,  she 
stretched  her  arms  towards  that  bourn  so  near  to  her.J 

The  year  1806  seems  to  have  been  too  long  for  her 

*  Parisian. 

t  Before  her  exile,  Mme.  de  Stael  lived  in  the  Rue  Crenelle- 
Saint-Germain,  near  the  Rue  du  Bac. 

J  A  liking  for  the  country  was  never  an  essential  part  of  Mme. 
de  Stael's  nature,  and  her  obstinate  yearning  for  the  Rue  du 


no  MADAME  DE  STA£L. 

imagination  to  endure  such  a  punishment,  and  she 
arrived  in  Paris  one  evening,  only  allowing  a  few  of 
her  friends  to  know.  She  walked  out  every  evening 
and  part  of  the  night  by  moonlight,  not  daring  to 
venture  out  by  day.  But  during  this  adventurous 
incursion,  she  was  seized  by  a  violent  desire,  very 
characteristic  of  her,  to  see  a  great  lady  who  was  an 
old  friend  of  her  father's,  Countess  Tease",  the  same 
who  said  of  her,  "  If  I  were  a  queen,  1  would  command 
Mme.  de  Stae'l  to  talk  to  me  all  day  long."  She  was 
very  old,  however,  at  this  time,  and  terrified  at  the 
idea  of  being  compromised  by  Mme.  de  Stael's  visit ; 
the  result  of  the  escapade  was  a  series  of  indiscretions 
which  at  last  reached  Fouche's  ears.  It  was  necessary, 
therefore,  to  depart  in  all  haste,  to  risk  no  more  of 
these  moonlight  walks  along  the  quays,  by  the  favoured 
stream,  and  round  that  Place  Louis  XV.,  so  familiar 
to  Delphine. 

Soon  after  this  came  the  publication  of  Corinne,  to 
confirm  and  increase  the  rigour  of  Mme.  de  Stael's  first 
exile.*  We  find  her  next  taking  refuge  at  Coppet, 
Bac  quite  spoiled  her  pleasure  in  it.  Walking  out  one  day  at 
Acosta  with  the  two  Schlegels  and  M.  Fauriel,  the  latter,  whose 
arm  she  had  taken,  began  unconsciously  to  admire  a  view.  "Ah, 
my  dear  Fauriel,"  she  said,  "  I  see  you  are  still  prejudiced  in 
favour  of  the  country."  Then,  seeing  at  once  that  she  had  said 
something  unusual,  she  smiled  by  way  of  qualifying  her  remark. 
A  long  time  after  this,  after  the  Empire,  conversing  one  day 
with  M.  Mole,  and  expressing  her  surprise  that  a  man  of  so 
much  talent  should  care  for  the  country,  she  ingenuously 
remarked  to  him,  "  Were  it  not  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  I 
would  not  open  my  window  to  see  the  Bay  of  Naples  for  the 
first  time,  while  I  would  go  five  hundred  miles  to  speak  to  a 
learned  man  I  don't  even  know."  An  unaffected  and  at  the 
same  time  flattering  way  of  expressing  how  much  she  preferred 
conversation  and  society  to  nature. 

*  The  proofs  of  the'  severity  with  which  she  was  treated  are 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  in 

where,  after  all,  she  appears  to  us  in  her  true  dignity, 
the  centre  of  her  stately  court 

What  the  sojourn  at  Ferney  was  for  Voltaire,  the 
life  at  Coppet  was  for  Mme.  de  Stael,  but  with  a  more 
romantic  halo  round  her,  it  seems  to  us,  more  of  the 
grandeur  and  pomp  of  life.  Both  reigned  in  their 
exile ;  Voltaire,  in  his  low  flat  plain,  his  secluded, 
poverty-stricken  castle,  with  a  view  of  despoiled,  un- 
shaded gardens,  scorned  and  derided.  The  influence 
of  Coppet  is  quite  different ;  it  is  that  of  Jean- Jacques 
continued,  ennobled,  installed,  and  reigning  amid  the 
same  associations  as  his  rival.  Coppet  counter- 
balances Ferney,  half  dethrones  it.  We  also,  of  this 
younger  generation,  judge  Ferney  by  comparing  it 
with  Coppet,  coming  down  from  Coppet  The  beauty 
of  its  site,  the  woods  which  shadow  it,  the  sex  of  its 
poet,  the  air  of  enthusiasm  we  breathe  there,  the  elegant 
company,  the  glorious  names,  the  walks  by  the  lake, 
the  mornings  in  the  park,  the  mysteries  and  the 
inevitable  storms  which  we  surmise,  all  contribute  to 

well  known  and  indisputable.  We  read  in  the  published  Cor- 
respondence of  Napoleon,  at  the  beginning  of  a  letter  from  the 
Emperor  to  Cambaceres,  dated  from  Osterode,  26th  March 
1807 :  "I  have  written  to  the  Minister  of  Police  to  send  Mme. 
de  Stael  back  to  Geneva,  with  permission  to  go  to  any  foreign 
country  she  chooses.  That  woman  still  pursues  her  profession 
of  intrigante.  She  went  to  Paris  against  my  orders, — she  is  a 
perfect  pest.  My  desire  is  that  you  speak  seriously  to  the 
Minister  about  this,  for  I  see  I  shall  be  forced  to  have  her 
apprehended.  Keep  an  eye  on  Benjamin  Constant  also,  and  at 
the  least  (political)  interference  on  his  part,  I  shall  send  him  to 
Brunswick,  to  his  wife  (!).  I  shall  tolerate  nothing  from  that 
clique.  I  do  not  wish  them  to  make  converts,  and  bring  down 
my  wrath  on  good  citizens."  Napoleon  affects  to  consider 
Mme.  de  Stael  as  practically  a  foreigner,  just  as  at  the  same 
time  he  pretended  to  see  only  a  foreigner  in  Benjamin  Constant : 
this  was  put  right  during  the  Hundred  Days. 


112  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

idealize  the  place  for  us.  Coppet  is  the  Elysium  which 
every  disciple  of  Jean-Jacques  would  gladly  give  to 
the  mistress  of  his  dreams.  Mme.  de  Genlis,  awaken- 
ing from  her  early  errors,  and  wishing  to  repair  them, 
has  tried  in  a  novel,  called  Athenais,  ou  le  Chateau  de 
Coppet  en  1807,*  to  reproduce  the  habits  and  some  of 
the  delicate  complications  of  that  life  which  from  afar 
we  can  only  distinguish  through  an  enchanted  glass. 
But  we  must  not  expect  to  find  a  faithful  picture  in 
that  otherwise  pleasant  production :  the  dates  are 
confused,  the  characters  are  grouped  with  an  object, 
and  their  parts  are  arranged  to  fit  in ;  M.  Schlegel 
is  made  to  seem  grotesque,  sacrificed  without  scruple 
and  regardless  of  good  taste ;  the  whole  situation, 
indeed,  is  represented  under  a  false  romantic  light, 
which  in  our  eyes  spoils  true  romance  as  much  as  it 
would  spoil  reality.  For  my  part,  I  would  much 
rather  have  some  exact  details,  on  which  the  after 
fancy  of  those  who  have  not  seen,  might  indulge  in 
pleasant  dreams  of  what  might  have  been. 

The  life  at  Coppet  was  the  life  of  a  country  mansion. 
There  were  often  as  many  as  thirty  guests  there, 
friends  and  strangers  ;  the  most  constant  visitors  were 
Benjamin  Constant,  M.  Auguste  Wilhelm  de  Schlegel, 
M.  de  Sabran,  M.  de  Sismondi,  M.  de  Bonstetten,  the 
Barons  de  Voght,  de  Balk,  etc. ;  also  once,  or  perhaps 
several  times  a  year,  M.  Mathieu  de  Montmorency,  M. 
Prosper  de  Barante,  Prince  Auguste  of  Prussia,  the 
celebrated  beauty  of  the  day,  designated  by  Mme.  de 
Genlis  under  the  name  of  Athenais,  and  a  crowd  of 
fashionable  people,  acquaintances  from  Germany  or 
Geneva.  The  literary  and  philosophical  conversations, 
always  high-toned,  clever  and  witty,  began  as  early  as 
eleven  in  the  morning,  when  all  met  at  breakfast ;  and 
*  Published  by  Jules  Didot,  1832. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  113 

were  carried  on  again  at  dinner,  and  in  the  interval 
between  dinner  and  supper,  which  was  at  eleven  at 
night,  and  often  as  late  as  midnight.  Benjamin 
Constant  and  Mme.  de  Stael  engrossed  the  conversa- 
tion. It  was  then  that  Benjamin  Constant,  whom  we 
younger  men  have  only  seen  rather  blase",  exchanging 
his  too  inveterate  habit  of  raillery  for  a  slightly 
affected  enthusiasm,  a  prodigiously  amusing  talker 
always,  but  whose  wit  was  influenced  by  his  other 
more  powerful  passions  and  faculties, — it  was  here  at 
Coppet  that  he  showed  to  the  greatest  advantage, 
proving  himself  to  be,  as  Mme.  de  Stael  uncontradicted 
has  proclaimed,  le  premier  esprit  du  monde,  the  greatest 
wit  of  the  day :  he  was  certainly  the  greatest  of  dis- 
tinguished men.  Their  intellects  were  in  accord ; 
they  always  understood  each  other.  Witnesses  tell 
us  that  the  sparkling  brilliancy  of  their  conversation 
in  this  chosen  circle  could  not  be  surpassed ;  like 
a  magic  game  of  racket  and  ball,  conversation  was 
thrown  from  one  to  the  other  for  hours  without  a 
single  miss. 

But  we  must  not  suppose  that  everybody  there  was 
always  either  sentimental  or  solemn ;  very  often  they 
were  simply  gay ;  Corinne  had  days  of  abandon,  when 
she  resembled  the  signora  Fantastici.  They  often  acted 
plays  at  Coppet,  dramas  and  tragedies,  or  the  chivalric 
plays  of  Voltaire,  Zaire  and  Tancrede,  favourites  of 
Mme.  de  Stael's ;  or  plays  composed  expressly  by  her 
or  her  friends.  These  latter  were  sometimes  printed 
at  Paris,  so  that  the  parts  might  more  easily  be  learned  ; 
the  interest  taken  in  such  messages  was  very  keen  ; 
and  when  in  the  interval  some  important  correction 
was  thought  of,  a  courier  was  hurried  off,  and  some- 
times a  second  to  catch  him  up,  and  modify  the 
correction  already  en  route.  The  poetry  of  Europe 
H 


H4  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

was  represented  at  Coppet  by  many  celebrated  men. 
Zacharias  Werner,  one  of  the  originators  of  that  court, 
whose  Attila  and  other  dramas  were  played  with  a 
considerable  addition  of  German  ladies,  wrote  about 
this  time  (1809)  to  Counsellor  Schneffer  (we  delete, 
however,  two  or  three  expressions  to  which  the  in- 
voluntarily sensual  and  voluptuous  imagination  of 
the  poet  is  too  apt)  :  "  Mme.  de  Stael  is  a  queen,  and 
all  the  intelligent  men  who  live  in  her  circle  are 
unable  to  leave  it,  for  she  holds  them  by  a  magic  spell. 
They  are  not  all,  as  is  foolishly  believed  in  Germany, 
occupied  in  forming  her  literary  character ;  on  the 
contrary,  they  receive  a  social  education  at  her  hands. 
She  possesses  to  admiration  the  secret  of  uniting  the 
most  unlikely  elements,  and  all  who  come  near  her, 
however  different  their  opinions  may  be,  agree  in 
adoring  this  idol.  Mme.  de  Stael  is  of  middling 
height,  and,  without  possessing  the  elegance  of  a 
nymph,  is  of  noble  proportions.  .  .  .  She  is  healthy, 
a  brunette,  and  her  face  is  not  exactly  beautiful ;  but 
this  is  not  observed,  for  at  sight  of  her  eyes  all  else 
is  forgotten ;  they  are  superb ;  a  great  soul  not  only 
shines  in  them,  but  shoots  forth  flame  and  fire.  And 
when,  as  so  often  happens,  she  speaks  straight  from 
her  heart,  we  see  how  this  noble  heart  is  hedged  round 
by  all  that  is  great  and  profound  in  her  mind,  and  then 
one  must  adore  her,  as  do  my  friends  A.  W.  Schlegel 
and  Benjamin  Constant,"  etc. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  to  oneself  the  sprightly 
author  of  this  picture.  Werner,  in  his  uncouth  dress, 
purposely  besmeared  with  snuff,  furnished  as  he  was 
with  an  enormous  snuff-box,  which  he  used  plentifully 
during  his  long,  erotic,  and  platonic  digressions  on 
androgyne;  his  fate  was,  he  said,  to  be  dragged  hither 
and  thither  in  fruitless  search  for  that  other  half  of 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  115 

himself,  and  from  one  attempt  to  another,  from  divorce 
after  divorce,  he  never  despaired  of,  in  the  end,  re- 
constituting his  original  self.  The  Danish  poet  CEhlen- 
schleeger*  has  given  a  detailed  account  of  a  visit  he 
paid  to  Coppet,  and  he  mentions  the  good  Werner 
quite  in  this  tone ;  we  shall  horrow  from  (Ehlen- 
schlseger's  story  a  few  other  facts  : — 

"  Mme.  de  Stae'l  kindly  came  to  me  and  invited  me 
to  spend  some  weeks  at  Coppet,  joking  me  at  the  same 
time  ahout  my  mistakes  in  French.  I  took  refuge  in 
German.  She,  and  also  her  two  children,  understood 
that  language  well,  and  spoke  it  also  very  well.  At 
Mme.  de  Stael's  house,  I  met  Benjamin  Constant, 
August  Schlegel,  the  old  Baron  Voght  of  Altona, 
Bonstetten  of  Geneva,  the  famous  Simonde  de  Sis- 
mondi,  and  Count  de  Sabran,  the  only  one  of  the 
company  who  did  not  know  German.  .  .  .  Schlegel 
was,  in  my  opinion,  polite  but  cold.  .  .  .  Mme.  de 
Stael  was  not  pretty,  but  in  the  glance  of  her  dark 
eyes  there  lay  an  irresistible  charm ;  and  she  pos- 
sessed in  a  high  degree  the  gift  of  subduing  obstinate 
natures,  and  by  her  own  amiability  drawing  together 
men  quite  antipathetic  to  each  other.  She  had  a 
loud  voice  and  rather  a  masculine  face,  but  a  delicate 
and  tender  heart.  .  .  .  She  was  then  engaged  on  her 
Allemagne,  and  used  to  read  a  part  of  it  to  us  every 
day.  She  has  been  accused  of  never  having  studied 
the  books  of  which  she  speaks  in  this  work,  and  is 
said  to  have  been  entirely  submissive  to  the  judgment 
of  Schlegel.  This  is  false.  She  read  German  with 
the  greatest  ease.  Schlegel  had,  however,  a  certain 
influence  over  her,  but  she  very  frequently  differed  in 
opinion  from  him,  and  reproached  him  for  his  pre- 

*  Danish  national  poet ;  his  first  great  poem  was  Aladdin; 
or,  The  Wonderful  Lamp.—Tn. 


Ii6  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

judices.  Sclilegel,  for  whose  learning  and  intellect 
I  have  a  great  respect,  was  in  truth  steeped  in  prejudice. 
He  placed  Calderon  above  Shakespeare  ;  he  severely 
criticised  Luther  and  Herder.  He  was,  like  his  brother, 
infatuated  with  the  aristocracy.  ...  If  we  add  to  all 
the  virtues  ef  Mme.  de  Stael  that  she  was  rich  and 
generous,  no  one  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  she 
lived  in  her  enchanted  castle  like  a  queen  or  a  fairy  ; 
and  her  magic  wand  was  perhaps  that  little  twig 
which  it  was  a  servant's  duty  to  place  by  her  plate 
each  morning,  and  with  which  she  toyed  during  the 
conversation."  Failing  the  laurel  twig  or  the  sacred 
mistletoe,  it  was  her  fan,  an  ivory  or  silver  paper-cutter, 
or  simply  a  morsel  of  paper,  her  fingers  played  with, 
— that  hand  impatient  of  a  sceptre. 

As  for  portraits  of  Mme.  de  Stael,  we  see  how  all 
who  try  to  limn  her  agree  in  the  chief  points,  from 
M.  de  Guibert  to  (Ehlensehheger  and  Werner.  Two 
faithful  and  trustworthy  portraits  from  the  brush 
allow  us  to  dispense  with  literary  word-painting,^  the 
portrait  painted  by  Mme.  Lebrun  in  1807,  which 
presents  Mme.  de  Stael  to  us  as  Corinne,  bare-headed, 
her  hair  in  curls,  a  lyre  in  her  hand  ;  and  the  picture 
by  Gerard,  painted  after  her  death,  but  from  perfect, 
unerring  remembrance.  However,  in  collecting  together 
several  sketches  from  various  contemporaneous  pens, 
we  think  we  have  not  done  a  useless  thing ;  one  is 
never  weary  of  harmonizing  many  reminiscences  of 
those  beloved  and  admired  ones  who  are  no  more.* 

*  One  distinctive  characteristic  of  the  vast  hospitality  of 
Coppet  was  the  order  which  reigned 'amidst  so  much  variety 
and  amusement ;  one  enjoyed  the  ease  of  wealth  without  any 
of  the  profusion  which  causes  the  degeneration  of  many  a 
brilliant  life.  Here  a  guiding  hand  made  everything  go 
smoothly,  and  by  a  wise  economy  of  the  means  at  hand, 


MADAME  DE  STA£L.  117 

English  poetry,  which,  during  the  Continental  wars, 
was  unrepresented  at  this  long  congress  of  thought 
of  which  Coppet  was  the  abiding-place,  appeared  there 
in  1816,  in  the  persons  of  Lewis  and  Byron.  The 
latter  has  spoken  of  Mine,  de  Stae'l  in  his  Memoirs  in 
an  affectionate  and  admiring  manner,  despite  a  certain 
levity  the  oracle  indulges  in.  Blast  as  he  is,  he  admits 
that  she  has  made  Coppet  the  most  pleasant  place  in 
the  world,  through  the  society  she  chooses  to  receive 
there,  and  which  her  own  talent  animates.  On  her 
side,  she  pronounced  him  to  be  the  most  seductive 
man  in  England,  always  adding :  "  I  credit  him  with 
just  sufficient  tenderness  to  destroy  the  happiness  of  a 
woman."  * 

But  the  inexpressible  charm  of  Coppet  during  these 
its  most  brilliant  years,  that  which  you  would  now 
like  to  grasp,  oh  ye  hearts,  whether  ye  be  still  young 

plenty  of  leisure  was  left  for  the  enjoyment  of  romance  and  the 
drama  ;  the  springs  of  household  government  were  never  visible, 
but  all  enjoyed  the  skilful  result. 

*  About  the  same  time  that  she  expresses  this  opinion  of 
Byron,  she  remarked,  as  if  from  some  association  of  ideas  :  "  I 
do  not  like  B.  Constant's  book.  I  do  not  believe  that  all  men 
are  like  Adolphe,  but  men  are  vain."  From  Byron's  own 
Memoirs  we  read  :  "I  send  you  Adolphe  by  B.  C. ;  it  contains 
some  painful  truths,  although  in  my  opinion  it  is  too  sad  a 
book  ever  to  be  popular.  The  first  time  I  read  it  was  in 
Switzerland  (1816),  by  Mme.  de  Stael's  desire  ; "  and  he  adds 
a  contradiction  of  an  erroneous  supposition  which  had  been 
spread.  The  original  of  E116nore  was  Mme.  Lindsay,  she 
whom  M.  de  Chateaubriand  in  his  MSmoires  calls  the  last  of 
the  Ninons.  This,  however,  is  no  proof  that  more  than  one 
feature  applicable  to  the  author's  liaison  with  Mine,  de  Stae'l 
may  not  have  crept  into  the  picture.  These  heroines  of 
romance  are  very  complex.  Sismondi,  however,  has  said  too 
much  about  them  in  his  Letters,  since  published  ;  and  we  are 
able  to  penetrate  the  mask  better  than  is  desirable. 


n8  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

and  fresh,  or  disillusioned,  rebellious  of  the  present, 
passionately  fond  of  the  past,  thirsting  for  an  ideal 
which  you  no  longer  hope  to  find  ;  oh,  all  you  who 
are  still,  it  has  been  justly  said,  what  is  best  in  the 
world  after  genius,  inasmuch  as  ye  have  power  to 
admire  it,  and  with  tearful  eyes  to  feel  it, — it  is  the 
seclusion,  the  interchange  of  thoughts  and  ideas  among 
these  guests  beneath  the  leafy  shades,  and  the  noon- 
day talks  by  the  brink  of  these  lovely  waters  clothed 
with  verdure.  A  frequent  guest  at  Coppet,  knowing 
my  deep  interest  (he  is  not  one  of  those  I  have  named 
above),*  told  me  :  "One  morning  I  had  come  out  of  doors 
early  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air.  I  lay  on  the  thick  grass 
by  a  pond  in  a  remote  part  of  the  park,  gazing  dreamily 
at  the  blue  sky.  Suddenly  I  heard  voices,  two  persons 
drawing  near  and  nearer,  talking.  The  conversation 
was  loud  and  excited,  and  of  a  private  nature.  I  tried 
to  make  a  noise  to  warn  them  of  my  presence,  and  as 
I  hesitated  to  get  up,  they  came  so  near  that  it 
was  too  late  to  interrupt,  and  I  was  obliged  to  re- 
main and  hear  everything — reproaches,  explanations, 
promises,— unseen,  and  scarcely  daring  to  breathe." 
— "  Happy  man  ! "  I  said  ;  "  and  whose  were  the  two 
voices?  and  what  did  you  hear?"  Then  since  the 
delicacy  of  the  strolling  guest  evaded  my  questions, 
I  was  careful  not  to  persist.  Let  us  leave  to  romance, 
or  to  the  poetic  imagination  of  our  descendants,  the 
fresh  colouring  of  such  mysteries ;  we  are  still  too 
close  to  them.  Let  time  roll  on,  let  the  nimbus 
gather  on  these  hills,  let  the  hoary  summits  murmur 
forgetfully  of  long-past  voices,  and  one  day  imagination 
can  embellish  at  will  the  sorrows  and  the  anguish  of 
hearts  in  such  hallowed  Edens. 

Corinne  appeared  in  1807.     Its  success  was  instan- 
*  I  may  now  give  his  name, — he  was  Catruffo,  the  composer. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  119 

taneous  and  universal ;  but  it  is  not  from  the  criticisms 
of  the  press  that  we  must  prove  this.  Critical  freedom, 
even  literary  criticism,  had  almost  ceased  to  exist ; 
Mme.  de  Stael  about  this  time  was  not  able  to  persuade 
the  Mercure  to  insert  a  clever  but  simple  analysis  of 
the  remarkable  essay  by  M.  Barante  on  the  Eighteenth 
Century.  When  Gorinne  appeared,  we  were  on  the  eve 
of,  or  threatened  with,  that  absolute  censorship.  The 
sovereign's  displeasure  at  the  book,*  probably  because 
its  ideal  enthusiasm  was  not  helpful  to  his  aim,  was 
sufficient  to  paralyse  published  praise.  The  PuUiciste, 
always  the  moderate  organ  of  M.  Suard  and  of  philo- 
sophic freedom  in  matters  intellectual,  had  three  good 
articles,  signed  "D.  D.,"  which  were  probably  written 
by  Mile,  de  Meulan  (Mme.  Guizot).  On  the  other  hand, 
M.  de  Feletz  continued  his  curtly  polite,  but  fault- 
finding, remarks  in  the  Dsbats.^ 

*  "  If  we  are  to  believe  an  anecdote,"  says  M.  de  Villemain  in 
his  beautiful  studies  on  Mme.  de  Stae'l,  "  the  ruler  of  France  was 
so  annoyed  at  the  noise  this  romance  made,  that  he  himself 
wrote  a  critique  for  the  Moniteur.  He  strongly  censured  the 
interest  centred  in  Oswald,  and  characterized  it  as  want  of 
patriotism.  Any  one  may  read  this  clever  and  bitter  criticism." 
I  have  tried  in  vain  to  find  the  article,  which  is  probably  not 
published  under  the  direct  heading  of  Corinne.  I  leave  the 
pleasure  of  discovering  it  to  those  admirers  of  Napoleonic 
literature  who  are  beginning  to  discover  in  their  hero  the  first 
writer  of  the  century  (Thiers,  Carrel,  Hugo,  etc.). — Render 
unto  Caesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's,  but  do  not  lay  all 
crowns  at  his  feet. 

t  Since  I  had  the  honour  of  knowing  this  talented  repre- 
sentative of  the  old  art  of  criticism,  I  have  better  understood 
how  much  real  goodness  there  was  in  him,  and  how  his  honest 
rectitude  was  consistent  with  those  sharp,  cutting  remarks  so  try- 
ing to  the  amour  propre  of  authors.  When  M.  de  Feletz  had  a 
grain  of  humour  on  his  tongue,  he  could  not  help  expressing  it ; 
his  connection  with  journalistic  criticism  explains  this.  His 


120  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

M.  Boutard  praised,  and  judiciously  reserved  his 
opinions  in  respect  to  art.  One,  "  M.  C."  (whose  name 
I  do  not  know),  had  an  article  in  the  Mercure  which 
was  well  intentioned  but  valueless.  And  what  did  all 
this  continued  criticism  matter  now  to  Mine,  de  Stae'l  ? 
With  Corinne,  her  empire  of  fame  was  won.  There  is 
one  decisive  moment  for  genius,  a  moment  in  which  it 
so  firmly  establishes  itself,  that  for  all  time  coming 
praise  is  interesting  only  to  the  vanity  of  those  who 
bestow  it.  They  are  thankful  to  have  the  honour  of 
commending,  for  so  their  names  gain  lustre  in  society, 
as  a  borrowed  vase  of  gold  will  embellish  our  abode. 
Thus  with  Mme.  de  Stae'l ;  from  the  time  Corinne 
appeared,  Europe  crowned  her  with  the  name  she  had 
immortalized.  Corinne  is  the  personification  of  the 
sovereign  independence  of  genius  at  the  very  moment 
of  its  geatest  oppression, — Corinne,  who  was  crowned  at 
Rome,  in  that  Capitol  of  the  Eternal  City  into  which 
the  conqueror  who  exiled  her  might  not  put  his  foot. 
Mme.  Necker  de  Saussure  (Notice),  Benjamin  Constant 
(Melanges),  M.  J.  Chenier  (Tableau  de  la  Litte'rature), 
have  appreciatively  analyzed  the  book,  and  have  done  so, 
so  thoroughly  that  our  task  is  curtailed.  "  Corinne," 
says  Chenier,  "is  Delphine  still,  but  idealized  and 
independent,  giving  free  play  to  all  her  talents,  and 

mistake  as  regards  his  satire,  which  usually  hit  home,  was  that 
he  did  not  recognise  the  grand  and  serious  passages,  and  thus 
detracts  from  the  effect.  He  wrote  too  purely  for  society,  and 
never  went  deeply  into  anything ;  his  jests  also  were  carried 
too  far,  which  made  him  seem  unamiable.  Mme.  de  Stae'l,  who 
so  seldom  cherished  resentment,  made  M.  de  Feletz  the 
exception.  On  one  occasion,  when  she  observed  him  enter  a 
salon,  she  went  out  by  the  other  door.  His  crime  was  the. only 
unpardonable  one  in  her  eyes  :  he  had  spoken  ill  of  M.  Necker. 
(See  Melanges  by  M.  de  Feletz,  vol.  vi.  p.  280,  and  the  volume 
subsequently  published,  Judgments,  p.  352.) 


MADAME  DE  STAZL.  121 

always  under  the  double  inspiration  of  love  and 
intellect."  Yes ;  but  for  Corinne  even  glory  is  but  a 
brilliant  distraction,  a  grand  opportunity  to  conquer 
hearts.  "  In  seeking  fame,"  she  says  to  Oswald/'  I  have 
always  hoped  it  would  gain  me  love."  The  scheme  of 
the  book  lays  before  us  that  struggle  between  nobly  ambi- 
tious or  sentimental  faculties  and  domestic  happiness, 
that  perpetual  aspiration  of  Mme.  de  Stael's.  Corinne 
is  simply  resplendent  at  times  as  priestess  of  Apollo, 
while  in  the  common  relations  of  life  we  find  her  the 
simplest  of  women,  gay,  lively,  with  many  charms, 
capable  of  the  most  gracious,  unaffected  abandon  ;  but 
with  all  these  attractions  she  is  yet  unable  to  escape 
from  herself.  From  the  moment  passion  touches  her, 
when  she  feels  herself  seized  by  that  vulture's  claw, 
beneath  which  happiness  and  independence  sinks,  I  love 
her  helpless  efforts  to  find  comfort,  I  love  her  sentiment, 
which  is  more  powerful  than  her  genius,  her  ever 
recurrent  invocations  to  the  sanctity  and  continuity 
of  the  bonds  which  alone  prevent  sudden  rendings 
asunder,  and  I  love  to  hear  her,  in  her  dying  hour, 
avow  in  her  chant  du  cygne  (swan-song) :  "  Among 
all  the  faculties  I  owe  to  nature,  grief  alone  is 
exhausted."  This  counterpart  of  Delphine  which  I 
find  in  Corinne  is  very  seductive,  and  is  the  charm 
of  the  book  to  me.  The  severe  situations  in  which 
this  ardent,  sensitive  being  is  placed,  are  admirably 
calculated  to  enhance  the  picture.  Lovers'  names, 
not  inscribed  on  the  bark  of  some  beech  tree,  but 
engraved  on  the  eternal  ruins,  harmonize  with  the 
gravity  of  history,  and  become  a  living  part  of  its 
immortality.  The  divine  passion  of  a  being  whom  we 
cannot  believe  to  be  only  imaginary,  introduces  into 
the  amphitheatre  of  antiquity  one  more  victim  who 
will  never  be  forgotten ;  the  genius  which  tore  her 


122  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

away  is  another  conqueror,  and  not  the  least,  in  that 
city  of  conquerors. 

When  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre  was  walking  one 
day  with  Rousseau,  he  asked  him  if  Saint-Preux  was 
not  himself:  "No,"  replied  Jean- Jacques,  "Saint-Preux 
is  not  at  all  what  I  have  been,  but  what  I  would  like 
to  have  been."  Almost  all  writers  of  poetic  romance 
would  speak  thus.  Corinne  is  what  Mme.  de  Stael 
would  have  wished  to  be,  and  what,  after  all,  except  in 
the  difference  between  the  artistic  grouping  and  her 
scattered  life,  she  has  been.  She  not  only  had  the 
Capitol  and  the  triumph  of  Corinne;  she  also  had  death 
through  suffering. 

That  Rome,  that  Naples,  which  Mme.  de  Stael 
depicts  in  her  own  style  in  the  poetic  romance  of 
Corinne,  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  about  the  same  time, 
represents  to  us  in  his  epic  poem,  The  Martyrs.  In  this 
there  is  not  the  slightest  interposing  shade  of  German 
influence ;  with  Eudore  we  go  back  to  the  simplicity 
of  youth,  while  throughout  we  discern  the  masculine 
firmness  of  the  design,  the  natural,  spontaneous 
splendour  of  the  glowing  pen.  For  the  comparison  of 
all  the  different  modes  of  feeling  and  of  depicting 
Rome,  since  Rome  began  to  be  a  city  of  ruins,  we 
know  nothing  more  complete  than  the  shrewd  and 
learned  essay  of  M.  Ampere.* 

Rome,  Rome !  thy  marbles  and  thy  skies,  vaster 
surroundings  to  lend  support  to  less  fleeting  ideas ! 
A  talented  woman  once  wrote :  "  How  I  love  certain 
poems !  It  is  with  them  as  with  Rome,  all  or  nothing  : 
we  either  live  in  them,  or  we  cannot  understand." 
Corinne  is  but  an  imposing  variety  of  this  worship  of 
Rome,  of  this  reverent  power  of  entering  in  other 
epochs  and  with  diverse  minds,  into  the  Eternal  City. 
*  Revue  des  Deux-Mondes,  1835,  vols.  ii.  and  iii. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  123 

One  delightful  part  of  Corinne,  and  all  the  more 
charming  because  unusual,  is  the  conversational  style 
which  is  so  often  introduced,  and  the  hankering  after 
French  society  which  the  Count  d'Erfeuil  is  made  to 
express.  Mine,  de  Stael  mocks  that  too  thoughtlessly 
witty  society,  but  in  such  moments-she  is  herself  more 
French  than  she  supposes  :  what  she  can  express  best, 
she,  as  it  so  often  happens,  disdains. 

As  in  Delphine,  there  are  portraits  :  Mme.  d'Arbigny, 
that  Frenchwoman  who  plans  and  calculates  everything, 
is  one,  as  is  also  Mme.  de  Vernon.  It  is  privately 
whispered  that  she  is  Mme.  de  Flahaut,  just  as  we  also 
know  the  rather  contrary  individualities  of  which  the 
noble  figure  of  Oswald  is  a  type,  and  as  we  recognise 
the  truthfulness  of  the  parting  scene,  and  can  almost 
realize  the  agony  of  Corinne  during  absence. 

However,  although  in  Corinne  there  are  conversations 
and  pictures  of  fashionable  life,  it  is  not,  as  regards  this 
book  just,  to  blame  Mme.  de  Stael  for  incoherence  or 
inconsistency  of  style,  and  for  a  degree  of  preference  in 
the  disposition  of  her  ideas.  For  the  general  execution 
of  this  work  she  has  quite  abandoned  the  witty  volu- 
bility which  she  sometimes  indulged  in  (stans  pede  in 
uno)  as  she  leant  against  the  marble  chimney-piece. 
If  here  and  there  incompleteness  of  style  may  be 
detected,  it  is  only  by  rare  accident ;  I  have  seen 
pencil  jottings  in  a  copy  of  Corinne,  picking  out  the 
great  number  of  metis  (but),  Avhich  give  rather  a 
monotonous  effect  to  the  first  pages.  Careful  attention 
presides  over  every  detail  of  this  monument ;  the 
authoress  has  written  in  artistic,  measured,  and  majestic 
language.* 

*  Heading  a  reprint  of  Corinne  in  1839,  \ve  added :  "Even 
as  time  passes,  the  interest  which  attaches  to  these  works,  once 
recognised  as  subsisting  and  durable,  may  vary,  but  is  not  lew 


124  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

The  book  on  Germany,  which  appeared  in  London 
only  in  1813,  was  on  the  eve  of  being  published  in 
Paris  in  1810 :  the  edition  submitted  to  the  imperial 
censors,  Esmenard  and  others,  was  completed,  when,  by 
the  sudden  tactics  of  the  police,  the  sheets  were  sent  to 
be  waste  paper,  and  the  whole  annihilated.  The  Due 
de  Rovigo's  letter  is  well  known  ;  that  disgraceful  story 
is  still  fresh  in  our  minds.  Germany  having  become 
better  known,  and  having  besides  made  great  advances 
since  that  time,  Mme.  de  StaeTs  book  may  now  seem 
less  complete  in  the  historical  part ;  public  opinion  is, 
however,  in  these  later  times,  more  sensible  in  regard 
to  such  defects.  But  apart  from  the  honour  of  initiat- 
ing what  no  one  else  was  capable  of  undertaking  at  the 
time,  and  which  Villers  alone,  if  he  had  had  as  much 
talent  in  writing  as  in  conversation,  could  have  divided, 
with  her,  I  do  not  believe  that  we  could  now  find 
elsewhere  such  a  vivid  picture  of  that  sudden  birth  of 
German  genius,  such  a  brilliant  picture  of  that  poetic 
age  which  may  be  called  the  century  of  Goethe  ;  for 
the  beautiful  German  poetry  seems  almost  to  have  been 

great.  Their  very  faults  become  characteristic  of  the  descrip- 
tion, and  are  not  without  their  charm  as  the  expression  of  a 
former  taste  which  has  given  way  to  another,  which  in  its  turn 
will  also  pass  away.  Something  has  perished  from  the  bosom 
of  what  continues  to  exist ;  that  tinge  of  sadness  is  very 
appropriate  in  the  midst  of  the  admiration.  It  would  be  more 
suitable  at  this  moment,  when  a  recent  mournful  memory  is 
associated  with  that  immortal  figure  of  Corinne,  and  when,  our 
attention  being  drawn  to  Mme.  de  Stael,  we  involuntarily  think 
of  what  the  grave  has  but  now  taken  from  us.  This  book,  which 
a  father's  death  sent  her  to  Italy  to  ponder  over, — this  book, 
scarcely  thirty  years  old,  has  already  seen  her  and  her  son  and 
her  daughter  buried  ;  it  may  well  be  read  again  in  presence  of 
these  grave  thoughts  of  death  ;  for  if  it  does  not  speak  of  the 
real  mystery  of  the  things  of  life,  at  all  events  we  can  extract 
from  it  nothing  but  what  is  generous,  beautiful,  and  good." 


MADAME  DE  STAKL.  125 

born  and  to  have  died  with  that  great  man,  and  to 
have  lived  only  the  life  of  a  patriarch  ;  since  then,  there 
is  already  a  falling  off,  a  decadence. 

In  her  introduction  to  L'Allemagne,  Mme.  de  Stael  lays 
great  stress  on  the  philosophical  talent,  on  the  nature  of 
the  doctrines  as  opposed  to  those  of  French  ideology  ;  at 
such  moments  she  shows  us  that  she  is  herself  far 
enough  from  her  earlier  philosophy.  Here  (and  let  us 
carefully  note  this)  we  find  indications  of  a  growing 
anxiety  for  morality  in  her  writings.  A  work  is  not 
in  her  opinion  sufficiently  moral  unless  it  in  some  part 
aims  at  the  perfectibility  of  the  soul.  In  the  admirable 
discussion  which  she  makes  Jean-Jacques  carry  on 
with  a  religious  hermit,  it  is  set  forth  that  "genius 
ought  only  to  manifest  the  supreme  goodness  of  the  • 
soul."  In  some  passages  she  appears  very  anxious  to 
combat  the  idea  of  suicide.  "  When  one  is  very 
young,"  she  excellently  says,  "the  degradation  of 
existence  being  still  unrealized,  the  tomb  seems  only 
poetic  imagery,  a  sleep,  and  kneeling  figures  weeping 
round  us ;  towards  middle  life  it  is  no  longer  thus, 
and  one  understands  then  why  religion,  that  science 
of  the  soul,  has  put  the  horror  of  murder  along  with 
the  crime  of  suicide."  Mme.  de  Stael,  in  the  unfortunate 
position  in  which  she  was  then  placed,  did  not  abjure 
enthusiasm,  and  her  book  closes  with  a  glorification  of 
it,  although  by  the  influence  of  religion  she  endeavours 
to  restrain  herself. 

The  Essai  sur  le  Suicide,  which  appeared  at  Stockholm 
in  1812,  was  composed  about  1800,  and  signs  of  a  moral 
revolution  in  Mme.  de  Stael  are  there  even  more  apparent 
than  before. 

The  grief  which  the  unexpected  suppression  of  her 
book  caused  her  was  great.  Six  years  of  hopeful  study 
wasted,  and  a  redoubling  of  persecution  at  the. moment 


126  MADAME  DE  STA£L. 

when  she  had  expected  a  truce  ;  other  painful  and  con- 
trary circumstances  made  her  situation  at  this  time  both 
a  violent  crisis  and  a  decisive  ordeal,  which  ushered 
her  into  those  unending  years  which  I  have  called  her 
darkest.  Let  it  pass  !  let  it  pass  !  She  is  far  beyond 
them  now,  there  is  henceforth  nothing  for  her  but  glory 
which  will  never  leave  her ;  there  is  neither  position 
there,  nor  the  chant  of  the  Capitol.  Till  then  the 
tempests  of  life  had  always  left  her  a  gracious  reflex  of 
light  in  these  transitory  allurements  of  fame, — to  use 
her  own  charming  expression,  some  air  ecossais  (Scotch 
melody)  in  her  life.  But  from  this  time  everything 
becomes  more  hard  and  bitter.  First,  youth — that 
grand  and  natural  consoler — flies.  Mme.  de  Stael  had  a 
perfect  horror  of  age,  of  the  idea  of  getting  old  ;  one  day, 
when  she  frankly  expressed  this  sentiment  before  Mme. 
Suard,  the  latter  said  to  her  :  "  Never  mind,  you  will 
get  resigned  to  it,  and  be  a  very  amiable  old  lady." 
But  she  shuddered  at  the  thought :  the  word  youth  had 
a  musical  charm  in  her  ears  ;  she  loved  to  clothe  her 
phrases  with  the  sentiment  of  youth,  and  such  simple 
words  as  We  were  young  then,  filled  her  eyes  with  tears. 
"  Do  we  not  often  see,"  she  exclaims  (Essai  sur  le  Suicide), 
"  the  spectacle  of  the  torment  of  Me"zence  repeated  by 
the  union  of  a  living  soul  with  a  ruined  body,  in- 
separable enemies  1  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  sad 
avant  coureur  which  nature  causes  to  precede  death,  if 
it  is  not  the  order  to  exist  without  happiness,  to  abdicate 
daily,  flower  after  flower  in  the  crown  of  life  ? "  She 
kept  herself  behind  as  long  as  possible  far  from  these 
latter  days  which  echo  with  hoarse  voice  the  brilliant  airs 
of  youth.  The  sentiment  of  which,  at  this  time,  she  was 
the  object  on  the  part  of  M.  Rocca,  rather  helped  to 
increase  her  self-delusion  in  regard  to  youth  ;  she  saw 
herself  in  the  magic  mirror  of  two  young  eyes  blind  to 


MADAME  DE  STARL.  127 

the  ravages  of  years.  But  her  marriage  with  M.  Rocca, 
broken  down  by  his  wounds,  the  adoring  love  with 
which  she  gratefully  devoted  herself  to  him,  her  own 
impaired  health,  all  inclined  her  for  more  home-like 
duties.  L'air  ecossais,  I'air  brillant  of  earlier  times, 
became  a  grave  hymn,  holy  and  sad.  From  henceforth, 
religion  breathed  not  only  in  her  conversation,  but  in 
the  practices  of  her  daily  life.  When  she  was  younger, 
less  loaded  with  sorrow,  it  had  sufficed  for  her  to  go  in 
certain  hours  of  sadness,  to  visit  her  father's  tomb  at 
the  other  side  of  the  park,  or  with  Benjamin  Constant 
or  M.  de  Montmorency,  to  engage  in  some  deeply 
mystical  conversation  ;  as  life  advances,  when  courage 
is  crushed  by  positive  and  increasing  suffering,  when 
all  fails  and  fades  day  by  day,  and  everything  is 
colourless,  passing  inspirations  are  no  support ;  we 
require  a  firmer  belief,  one  more  continually  present 
with  us  :  Mme.  de  Stael  did  not  seek  for  it  except  where 
she  could  find  it,  in  the  gospel,  in  Christian  religion. 
Before  her  complete  conversion,  her  most  critical  time 
was  during  that  long  year  which  preceded  her  flight. 
The  faithful  constancy  of  some  friends  comforted  her 
for  the  neglect,  the  cowardly  excuses,  the  fear,  disguised 
under  the  plea  of  ill-health,  which  others  had  hurt  her 
by,  wounding  her  heart  in  diverse  ways.  She  felt  her- 
self surrounded  by  some  contagion  of  fate,  which  affected 
all  who  were  dearest  to  her  ;  her  spirit  rose  to  the 
danger.  "  I  am  the  exiled  Orestes"  she  exclaimed  to  the 
intimate  friends  who  were  so  devoted  to  her.  And 
again  :  "  In  imagination  I  am  in  the  tower  of  Ugolcn.' 
Too  much  under  restraint  at  Coppet,  especially  with  her 
tormenting  imagination,  she  longed  with  all  her  strength 
to  enjoy  a  freer  air,  a  larger  space.  The  prefect  of 
Geneva,  H.  Capelle,  who  had  succeeded  M.  de  Barante 
senior,  pressed  her  to  write  something  to  celebrate  the 


128  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

birthday  of  the  king  of  Rome  :*  a  few  words  would  have 
smoothed  all  ways  for  her,  opened  every  capital  ;  she 
did  not  think  for  a  single  instant  ;  in  her  well-known 
prompt  reply  she  found  nothing  better  to  wish  for  the 
child  than  a  good  wet-nurse.  The  Dix  Annies  d'Eocil 
gives  a  natural  description  of  the  vicissitudes  of  that 
disturbed  period  ;  she  represents  herself  as  ceaselessly 
studying  the  maps  of  Europe,  regarded  as  the  plan  of  a 
vast  prison,  which  she  was  trying  to  escape  from.  Her 
earnest  longing  was  towards  England,  but  she  would  be 
obliged  to  reach  it  by  St.  Petersburg. 

It  was  in  this  brooding  disposition,  and  after  that 
profound  crisis  resolved  upon  after  mature  thought, 
that  the  Restoration  found  Mme.  de  Stael,  and  brought 
her  back  (to  France).  She  had  seen  Louis  XVIII.  in 
England.  "  We  shall  have,"  she  announced  then  to  a 
friend,  "  a  king  who  will  be  a  friend  of  literature."  She 
liked  this  prince,  whose  moderate  opinions  reminded 
her  of  some  of  her  father's.  She  was  altogether  con- 
verted to  the  political  ideas  of  England,  in  that  country 
which  seemed  to  her  the  land  of  family  life  and  public 
liberty.  We  see  her  returned  from  it  appeased,  soothed, 
no  doubt  full  of  the  generous  impetuosity  which 
endured  till  her  last  day,  but  fixed  in  some  half- 
aristocratic  opinions,  which  from  1795  to  1802,  she 
had  by  no  means  professed.  Her  hostility  against  the 
Empire,  her  absence  from  France,  her  association  with 
the  allied  sovereigns  and  foreign  society,  the  extreme 
craving  for  rest  which  impels  the  mind  to  take  refuge 
in  less  daring  impressions,  —  all  these  contributed  to 
this  metamorphosis  in  her.  As  she  grew  older,  Mme. 
de  Stael  was  very  ready  to  reproach  herself  for  some  of 
her  father's  old  ideas.  Just  so  we  have  observed  that 
character  changes,  and  as  people  grow  older  they  return 
*  Napoleon's  son. — TE. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  129 

to  the  primitive  type  which  distinguished  them  in 
childhood,  casting  off  by  degrees  the  formal  habits  con- 
tracted in  the  interval.  It  is  the  same  in  revolutions  ; 
after  the  outbreak,  people  fall  back  on  more  moderate 
demands,  simpler  aims  than  they  at  first  thought  of 
attaining,  or  of  being  contented  with  ;  and  so  we  see 
Mme.  de  Stael  towards  the  end  of  her  life  taking  refuge 
in  a  more  miscellaneous  system,  more  temperate,  and 
for  her  almost  domestic  :  this,  for  the  daughter  of  M. 
Necker,  was  simply  returning  to  Saint-Ouen,  accepting 
altogether  the  charter  of  Louis  XVIII. 

The  Considerations  sur  la  Revolution  franpaise,  Mme. 
de  Stael's  last  work,  is  the  one  which  has  established 
her  fame,  and  which  naturally  classes  her  name  in 
politics  between  the  honoured  names  of  her  father 
and  her  son-in-law.  It  allows  us  to  know  her  from  a 
liberal  point  of  view,  Anglified,  and  rather  doctrinaire, 
as  they  say,  much  better  than  we  could  otherwise  have 
known  her.  Immediately  after  her  return  to  France, 
she  began  to  see  in  her  own  mind  the  unreasonableness 
of  party  spirit,  and  all  the  difficulties  and  complications 
which  accompany  restorations.  Caution,  and  prudent, 
conciliatory  measures  were  from  the  first  indicated,  coun- 
selled by  her.  In  her  connection  with  Mme.  de  Duras  and 
M.  de  Chateaubriand,  she  sought  to  come  to  an  understand- 
ing with  the  generous  enlightened  portion  of  a  royalism 
keener  than  her  own.  "  My  system,"  she  said  in  1816, 
"  is  always  absolutely  opposed  to  that  which  is  popular, 
and  my  most  sincere  affection  is  with  those  who  follow 
it."  She  had  from  this  time  to  suffer  much  and  un- 
ceasingly in  many  of  her  private  affections  and  relation- 
ships, which  she  had  to  sacrifice  to  the  divergencies  of 
opinion  which  arose  ;  the  cluster  of  human  friendships 
relaxed  and  loosed  around  her  ;  some  new  and  precious 
acquaintances,  like  M.  Mackintosh,  only  imperfectly 
I 


130  MADAME  DE  STAEL. 

compensated  her.  Painful  days,  but  which  come  sooner 
or  later  in  every  existence,  in  which  one  sees  the  chosen 
ones  who  have  been  enfolded  in  the  sacred  shrine  of  an 
ideal  love  grow  cool,  then  gloomy,  one  after  the  other, 
finding  no  pleasure  in  our  society,  failing  altogether  in 
that  delicacy  of  affection  which  at  first  they  showered 
on  us  !  These  inevitable  disappointments,  which  the 
dearest  friendships  do  not  preclude,  had  a  singular 
effect  on  Mme.  de  Stae'l,  and  weakened  her  hold,,  if  not 
on  life,  at  least  on  its  vanities  and  perishable  pleasures. 
She  at  last  began  to  find  less  pleasure  even  in  writing  to 
M.  de  Montmorency,  I'admirable  ami,  himself,  on  account 
of  these  unfortunate  differences  of  opinion,  to  which  he 
held  too  firmly.  M.  de  Schlegel  had  a  great  grudge 
against  this  invading  policy,  and  was  less  comfortable, 
or  at  times  more  sarcastic,  in  these  troubled  reunions, 
which  no  longer  represented  to  him  the  delightful 
literary  society  of  Coppet. 

Mme.  de  Stae'l  was  quite  sensible  of  this,  and,  already 
suffering  from  an  increasing  malady,  consoled  herself 
either  in  her  family,  or  looking  higher  in  faithfulness  to 
One  ivho  can  never  be  unfaithful  to  us.  She  died,  however, 
surrounded  by  all  those  chosen  friends  whose  names 
we  love  to  see  united  with  hers  ;  she  died  in  Paris,*  in 
1817,  the  14th  of  July,  on  that  day  of  liberty  and  sun- 
shine, full  of  genius  and  sentiment,  with  undimmed 
faculties,  and  at  a  still  early  age.  The  evening  before 
her  death  she  made  them  wheel  her  chair  into  the 
garden,  and  distributed  to  those  loved  ones  she  was 
about  to  leave  for  ever,  roses  and  blessed  words  of 
comfort  as  her  last  remembrances. 

The  posthumous  publication  of  the  Considerations, 
which  took  place  in  1818,  was  a  great  event,  and  con- 
stituted for  Mme.  de  Stae'l  a  brilliant  political  anni- 
*  Rue  Neuve-des-Mathurins. 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  131 

rersary.  In  this  work  she  suggests  to  the  Revolution, 
and  to  the  Restoration  itself,  a  political  interpretation 
destined  to  echo  long,  and  to  exercise  an  enduring 
influence.  It  was  a  monarchic  sdon  la  Charte,  according 
to  her.  Outside  this,  and  exclusive  of  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand's policy,  safety  was  almost  impossible  for  the 
Restoration :  on  the  contrary,  the  harmony  between  these 
two  extremes  might  possibly  be  prolonged  indefinitely. 
Each  faction,  therefore,  in  the  excitement  of  novelty, 
rushed  to  find  in  the  book  of  Considerations  weapons 
wherewith  to  defend  its  system.  The  praises  were 
just,  the  censure  passionate.  Benjamin  Constant  in  the 
Minerve,  M.  de  Fitz- James  in  the  Conservateur,  wrote 
very  strongly,  and  from  very  opposite  points  of  view, 
as  one  may  suppose.  M.  Bailleul  and  M.  de  Bonald 
wrote  pamphlets  on  the  work,  each  interpreting  it  in 
a  contrary  sense  ;  and  there  were  many  other  pamphlets 
written  on  the  subject.  The  thoughtful  influence 
which  through  this  work  Mme.  de  Stael  exercised  on 
the  younger  liberal  philosophical  party,  that  which 
later  on  was  represented  by  the  Globe,  was  direct. 
The  conciliatory,  expansive,  irresistible  influence  which 
would  have  resulted  from  her  personal  influence,  was 
more  than  once  much  missed  by  the  political  party 
which,  so  to  speak,  emanated  from  her,  and  would  have 
continued  to  be  hers. 

But  it  is  in  the  domain  of  art  that  her  influence 
would,  I  imagine,  have  been  more  and  more  delicately 
effective,  cordial,  intelligent,  and  untiringly  encouraging 
to  new  talent,  seeking  it  out,  and  moulding  it  with 
profit  to  itself  and  posterity.  Among  all  those  who 
at  the  present  day  are  burning  with  unrecognised  talent, 
scattered  here  and  there,  loose,  unbound,  she  would 
perhaps  have  been  a  bond,  the  domestic  hearth  round 
which  ideas  could  have  been  exchanged,  enthusiasm 


132  MADAME  DE  STA&L. 

rekindled ;  interpreting  each  other's  thoughts,  they 
would  with  her  have  perfected  the  union  of  art  and 
imagination.  Yea,  if  Mine,  de  Stael  had  lived,  ap- 
preciative and  sincerely  affectionate  as  she  was,  how 
especially  she  would  have  delighted  in  that  eminent 
woman's  talent,  which  I  cannot  yet  compare  to  hers  ! 
And  after  the  publication  of  Le'lia,  how  she  would 
herself  have  hurried,  full  of  tender  dismay  and  indulg- 
ence, to  comfort  the  authoress  under  the  unfriendly 
severity  and  hypocritical  morality  of  public  criticism  ! 
Delphine,  alone  among  all  the  women  of  the  salon, 
went  and  sat  by  Mme.  Recamier.  Instead. of  vulgar 
curiosity  or  malicious  flattery,  how  cordially  she  would 
have  taken  to  her  heart  that  womanly  genius  —more  an 
artist  than  she  herself,  I  grant,  but  so  far  less  philo- 
sophic, less  wise,  less  convinced,  less  deeply  imbued 
with  sound  political  views  and  quickened  sensibilities ! 
how  she  would  have  made  her  love  life  and  glory ! 
how  eloquently  she  would  have  spoken  to  her  of  the 
clemency  of  heaven,  and  of  the  beauty  of  the  universe, 
ivhich  does  not  exist  to  defy  man,  but  to  typify  for  him  a 
'better  life!  And  lastly,  how  she  would  have  praised 
her,  and  encouraged  her  to  seek  after  more  placid 
inspirations ! 

Oh  you  whom  public  opinion  has  already  with  one 
voice  proclaimed  first  in  the  path  of  literature  since 
Mme.  de  Stael,  you  have,  I  well  know,  in  the  admira- 
tion you  display  for  her,  a  deep  and  tender  gratitude 
for  all  the  good  she  desired  for  you  and  may  have  done 
you  !  There  will  ever  be  in  your  glory  an  early  bond 
which  binds  you  to  hers.* 

"*  It  will  be  understood  that  this  refers  to  Mme.  Sand.  During 
the  thirty  years  since  this  study  of  Mme.  de  Stael  appeared 
(May  1835),  many  letters  and  documents  have  been  published 
which  have  thrown  more  and  more  light  on  some  of  her  ideas, 


MADAME  DE  STAEL.  133 

and  made  her  better  understood.  I  must  content  myself  with 
drawing  attention  to  the  article  on  Mme.  de  Slael,  Ambassadrice, 
published  by  M.  Geoffrey  in  the  Revue  des  Deux-Mondes  of  the 
1st  November  1856  ;  the  volume  entitled  Coppet  et  Weimar, 
published  by  Mme.  Lenormant  in  1862 ;  a  work  the  title  of 
which  is  La  Comtesse  d' Albany,  and  the  collection  of  Lettres 
inedites  by  Sismondi,  published  by  M.  Saint-Rene  Taillandier 
in  1862  and  1863.  But  except  for  a  few  corrections  in  regard 
to  details  which  might  be  added  to  our  first  idea,  the  essential 
and  the  principal  features  of  the  study  which  has  just  been 
read  remain  as  true  at  this  present  time  as  they  were  thirty 
years  ago.  Let  us  guard  against  undoing,  or  even  tainting,  the 
worthy  admirations,  the  well-grounded  traditions  of  our  youth. 


JEANNE    D'ARC* 

1850. 


THE  Socidd  de  VHistoire  de  France,  the  labours  of  which 
have  not  been  interrupted  by  the  painful  circumstances 
against  which  it  has  had  to  contend,  has  just  completed 
a  work  of  great  national  importance,  the  compilation 
of  which  had  been  entrusted  to  the  painstaking  and 
enthusiastic  zeal  of  M.  Jules  Quicherat.  This  young 
and  conscientious  savant  has  collected  and  compiled,  in 
five  volumes,  all  the  authentic  documents  which  illus- 
trate clearly  the  history  of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  particularly 
the  full-length  texts  of  the  two  lawsuits,  the  first 
called  the  Proems  de  condemnation,  and  the  other  the 
Proems  de  rehabilitation,  which  latter  occurred  twenty- 
five  years  later.  The  analysis  of  these  proceedings,  and 
the  extracts  from  both  documents,  which  had  already 
appeared  in  various  publications  (especially  in  the 
Collection  des  Mtfmoires,  edited  by  M.  Michaud  and  M. 
Poujoulat),  had  attracted  public  attention  ;  but  extracts 
which  give  only  the  poetic  and  beautiful  side  of  a 
question  are  very  different  from  a  literal  reproduction 
of  the  exact  purport  of  the  Latin  texts,  and  the  so-called 
"  instruments  "  of  a  voluminous  legal  procedure.  We 

*  Proces  de  Jeanne  d'Arc,  published  for  the  first  time  by  M. 
J.  Quicherat  (6  vols.  m.  8vo). 


JEANNE  D'ARC,  135 

may  say,  indeed,  that  the  memory  of  Jeanne  d'Arc  has 
been  half  buried  in  the  dust  of  the  recorder's  office, 
from  which  it  has  only  now  been  rescued.  The  com- 
piler has  been  careful  to  quote,  at  the  end  of  his  work, 
testimonies  from  the  historians  and  chroniclers  of  the 
time,  regarding  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  and  he  has  also 
added  some  collateral  articles  which  the  careful  student 
may  like  to  see.  So  now  we  know  all  we  shall  ever 
learn  regarding  this  marvellous  being.  As  a  finishing 
touch  to  his  work,  M.  Quicherat  has  just  added  a 
separate  and  introductory  volume,  in  which  he  gives 
modestly,  but  very  precisely,  his  opinion  on  the  new 
points  which  this  complete  development  of  the  indict- 
ments in  the  proems  brings  out  more  clearly  ;  it  is  a 
subject  on  which  one  is  tempted  to  be  led  away  by 
enthusiasm  and  legend,  but  we  shall  endeavour  to  be 
guided  solely  by  love  of  truth. 

Even  after  her  death,  the  reputation  of  Jeanne  d'Arc 
seems  to  have  been  subjected  to  every  possible  distortion ; 
while  within  the  circle  of  literary  criticism,  what  sudden 
revolutions,  what  misadventures  have  befallen  her ! 
Chapelain's  La  Pucelle  almost  turned  the  heroine  into 
ridicule  ;  this  poem,  to  quote  the  remark  of  M.  Quich- 
erat, was  nearly  as  fatal  to  the  memory  of  Jeanne  d'Arc 
as  a  second  verdict  of  condemnation  would  have  been. 
It  was  so  tedious  that  it  incurred  the  cruel  lash  of 
Voltaire,  who  was  the  first  to  satirize  this  work,  thereby 
gaining  universal  applause.  It  was  then  believed  that 
such  a  subject  could  never  again  be  treated  seriously. 
It  does  not  beseem  xis  now  to  reproach  Voltaire  with 
a  wrong  so  universally  felt,  and  of  which  he  himself 
would  now  be  ashamed.  Let  us  mention  only  that,  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  every  one  was  charmed  with 
this  licentious  Pucelle,  and  in  my  time  the  most  decent 
people  could  recite  long  extracts  from  it ;  quite  lately 


136  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

I  have  heard  some  recited.  "We  are  told  that  M.  de 
Malesherbes  himself  knew  his  Pucelle  by  heart.  Each 
century  has  these  currents  of  contagious  moral  influence  ; 
they  are  unavoidable.  Now  we  have  passed  to  another 
extreme,  and  he  would  be  a  bold  man  who  would 
venture  to  turn  this  subject  into  a  vulgar  jest.  The 
present  tendency,  even  if  exaggerated,  is,  after  all, 
infinitely  more  respectable ;  it  is  more  true  and  more 
just,  and  I  do  not  presume  to  condemn  it. 

From  whatever  point  of  view  we  may  regard  it,  and 
however  carefully  we  may  guard  ourselves  against 
undue  enthusiasm,  we  must  admit  the  pathos  of  that 
figure,  Jeanne  d'Arc ;  no  other  in  history  is  more 
worthy  of  pity  and  admiration.  France,  at  the  time 
she  appeared,  was  at  its  lowest  depths  of  misery. 
During  fourteen  years  of  war,  which  began  by  the 
disaster  of  Agincourt,  nothing  had  occurred  conducive 
to  the  moral  elevation  of  the  invaded  country.  The 
English  king  owned  Paris ;  the  Dauphin  held  his 
ground  with  difficulty  on  the  Loire.  One  of  his 
secretaries,  Alain  Chartier,  who  was  one  of  the  most 
able  writers  of  his  time,  was  among  those  who  accom- 
panied him.  He  has  graphically  described  the  state 
of  distress,  during  which  there  was  not  a  single  place 
ol  refuge  for  any  man  of  wealth  and  learning  save 
behind  the  ramparts  of  a  few  cities.  For  "even  the 
mention  of  the  fields  inspired  one  with  a  feeling  of 
terror,  and  the  country  seemed  to  have  become  an 
ocean,  where  no  other  right  but  that  of  brute  force 
predominated,  and  where  each  held  possessions  in  pro- 
portion to  his  strength."  It  was  at  this  time  that,  in 
a  village  situated  in  the  valley  of  the  Meuse,  on  the 
borders  of  Lorraine,  a  young  girl,  the  daughter  of 
simple,  pious  labourers,  believed  she  heard  a  voice.  She 
first  heard  this  voice  in  her  father's  garden  one  day  in 


JEANNE  D'AKC.  137 

midsummer,  when  she  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age 
(1425).  She  had  fasted  during  the  whole  of  the 
previous  day,  nor  had  her  fast  been  broken  on  that 
morning.  Thenceforth  the  voice  continued  to  be  heard 
by  her  several  times  each  week,  very  regularly,  but 
most  frequently  at  particular  hours,  exhorting  and 
advising  her.  It  counselled  her  to  continue  in  good 
behaviour,  to  attend  church  regularly,  and  to  enter 
France.  The  latter  exhortation  was  continually  re- 
peated with  great  and  still  greater  emphasis,  and  the 
girl  felt  she  could  no  longer  remain  at  home.  The 
mysterious  and  solitary  communications,  and  her 
inward  struggles,  went  on  for  two  or  three  years. 
Every  fresh  echo  of  her  country's  distress  increased 
her  anguish.  The  voice  never  ceased-  to  exhort  her  to 
enter  France  at  any  price  ;  and  the  exhortation  became 
even  more  impressive  after  the  day  on  which  the 
English  began  the  siege  of  Orleans, — that  siege  during 
which  every  heart  throbbed  with  the  agony  of  suspense. 
It  commanded  her  to  go  instantly  and  raise  the  siege, 
and  when  the  child  answered,  "  I  am  only  a  humble 
girl,  and  know  not  how  to  ride  or  fight,"  the  voice 
responded,  "  It  matters  not— thou  must  go  nevertheless." 
This  adventurous  idea  which  tempted  Jeanne  had 
become  known,  and  was  very  displeasing  to  her  father, 
an  honest,  good-living  man,  who  declared  he  would 
rather  see  his  daughter  drowned  than  behold  such 
things.  The  voice  gave  Jeanne  permission  to  disobey 
the  commands  of  her  father,  and,  under  the  pretext  of 
visiting  an  uncle  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood,  she 
left  her  native  village.  She  then  induced  this  relative 
to  take  her  to  Robert  de  Baudricourt,  who  was  in 
command  at  Vaucouleurs.  At  first  Robert  received 
her  rudely,  roughly  telling  her  that  "her  uncle  should 
box  her  ears  and  take  her  back  to  her  father."  But  at 


138  JEANNE  D'ARC, 

last,  influenced  by  her  determination  to  go  in  spite  of 
all  opposition,  he  yielded  to  her  entreaties.  She  then 
insisted  upon  an  interview  with  the  Duke  of  Lorraine, 
who  gave  her  some  money.  The  inhabitants  of 
Vaucouleurs  themselves,  full  of  interest  on  her  behalf, 
undertook  the  expense  of  providing  her  with  an 
equipment.  Her  uncle  and  a  neighbour  bought  her  a 
horse,  the  cost  of  which  Robert  de  Baudricourt  offered 
to  reimburse.  The  latter,  not  without  some  soldier-like 
jests  at  the  young  girl's  expense,  as  he  helped  her  to 
mount,  in  her  soldier's  dress,  wished  her  a  safe  journey 
to  the  Dauphin,  saying,  "  Go,  and  come  of  it  what  may." 
After  a  successful  journey  of  eleven  days,  she  found 
the  Dauphin,  who  was  then  at  Chinon  (March  1429). 
Her  public  career  now  began,  she  being  only  seventeen 
years  of  age.  Having  made  herself  known  to  the  king, 
and  obtaining  his  consent,  she  resolutely  followed  the 
vocation  that  her  faith  in  God  and  the  mysterious 
voice  prompted  her  to  pursue  ;  she  told  every  one 
what  had  to  be  accomplished,  and  took  command. 
At  the  end  of  April  she  reached  the  ramparts  of 
Orleans ;  entered  the  town,  and  raised  the  siege,  after 
a  series  of  manoeuvres  that  were  very  remarkable, 
according  to  the  military  tactics  of  those  days.  She 
appears  to  have  been  gifted  with  that  peculiar  prompti- 
tude of  action  which  is  a  military  intuition.  The 
following  months  were  filled  with  her  victories  and 
exploits, — Jargeau  ;  Beaugency  ;  the  battle  of  Patay, 
where  Talbot  was  made  prisoner ;  Troyes,  which  she 
compelled  to  surrender  to  the  king  ;  Rheims,  where  she 
had  him  crowned, — four  months  of  glorious  success ! 
Wounded  before  Paris  on  the  8th  of  September,  fortune 
for  the  first  time  failed  her,  and  the  exhortations  of  the 
voice  were  for  once  misleading,  or,  at  least,  its  counsels 
were  rendered  useless  by  the  unwillingness  and  obstinate 


JEANNE  PARC.  139 

hesitation  of  her  men.  From  this  moment  she  had 
only  flashes  of  success ;  her  star  had  set,  although 
neither  her  courage  nor  her  devotion  were  extinguished. 
After  divers  mishaps  and  fruitlsss  attempts,  she  was 
taken  in  a  raid  on  Compiegne,  the  20th  May  1430,  a 
little  less  than  three  months  after  her  glorious  appear- 
ance at  Orleans.  She  was  cast  into  prison,  and  given 
up  by  the  Burgundians  to  the  English,  who  in  their 
turn  consigned  her  to  the  mercy  of  the  Inquisition. 
Jeanne's  prosecution  commenced  at  Eouen,  in  January 
1431,  and  ended  with  the  atrocious  scene  at  the  stake, 
where  she  was  burnt  alive,  as  a  relapsed  heretic,  the 
30th  of  May  of  the  same  year,  being  convicted  of 
schism,  idolatry,  and  witchcraft.  She  was  then  scarcely 
twenty  years  of  age. 

Now,  are  we  not  at  once  struck  by  this  rapid  transit 
of  Jeanne  d'Arc  1  do  we  not  feel  that  life  to  her  was 
but  a  momentary  flash,  as  it  nearly  always  is  with 
beings  so  marvellously  bright  ? 

After  our  first  impression  of  pity  and  admiration  for 
this  young  and  generous  and  innocent  victim,  we  feel 
that,  in  order  to  admire  her  better,  we  must  obtain  a 
clearer  insight  into  her  character,  and  more  fully  realize 
her  sincerity  and  the  motives  that  prompted  her  to  act ; 
our  thoughts  go  even  beyond  this,  and  we  are  inclined 
to  ask  ourselves,  To  what  extent  was  her  inspiration 
founded  on  truth  ?  In  short,  the  question  resolves  itself 
into  this :  Can  we  solve  the  mystery  of  Jeanne  d'Arc 
by  describing  her  as  a  natural  being  of  great  heroism 
and  sublimity,  who  believed  herself  inspired,  though 
really  not  otherwise  than  by  human  feelings  ?  Or 
must  we  absolutely  abandon  the  idea  of  obtaining  any 
solution,  unless  by  admitting,  as  she  did  herself,  a 
supernatural  intervention  ? 

M.  Quicherat's  work  gives  us  a  clearer  idea  on  this 


140  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

subject,  and  provides  us  with  nearly  all  the  elements 
requisite  for  future  treatment  of  this  delicate  question. 
Unluckily,  an  important  paper  is  missing,  and  has 
never  been  found.  If  it  existed,  it  would  enable  us  to 
judge  Jeanne  in  her  true  light,  and  give  us  a  better 
insight  into  her  early  character.  When  Jeanne  first  came 
to  Charles  VII.,  he  caused  her  to  be  interrogated  and 
examined  at  Poictiers,  in  order  to  be  convinced  of  her 
truthfulness  and  candour.  It  is  this  first  simple  state- 
ment, on  the  day  of  her  arrival  at  the  court,  which 
would  be  of  such  inestimable  value,  because,  though 
later  on  she  answered  the  same  questions  before  the 
judges  who  condemned  her,  she  no  longer  spoke  with 
the  artless  eloquence  of  that  early  deposition.  How- 
ever, in  spite  of  this  irreparable  loss,  we  possess  answers 
from  her  own  lips  which  bear  witness  to  her  real  con- 
dition from  childhood.  Without  wishing  to  approach 
a  question  which  entirely  belongs  to  physiology  and 
science,  I  will  say  only  that  the  mere  fact  of  habitually 
hearing  voices,  of  believing  what  in  reality  are  simply 
delusions  to  be  spiritual  manifestations,  is  a  pheno- 
menon, since  proved  in  science,  a  rare  phenomenon 
certainly,  but  one  which  does  not  constitute  a  miracle, 
nor  does  it  necessarily  constitute  madness  ;  it  is  absolute 
hallucination. 

M.  Quicherat  very  judiciously  remarks  :  "  In  review- 
ing the  evidence  afforded  by  the  documents,  the  idea 
I  form  of  the  Maiden  of  Domremy  is  that  of  a  serious 
and  religions  child,  endowed  to  the  utmost  with  that 
intelligence  peculiar  to  the  superior  beings  of  primitive 
society.  She  was  nearly  always  alone,  at  church 
or  in  the  fields,  and  became  profoundly  absorbed 
in  communication  with  the  saints  whose  images  she 
contemplated."  Her  father's  cottage  was  near  the 
church.  A  little  further,  on  an  incline,  was  a  spring 


JEAXNE  D'ARC.  141 

called  the  Currant  Bush,  under  a  beech  tree  entitled 
the  Beautiful  May,  the  tree  of  the  Ladies  or  Fairies. 
The  belief  in  these  fairies,  to  which  Jeanne's  judges 
attached  so  much  importance,  in  order  to  convict  her  of 
intercourse  with  evil  spirits,  and  whose  names  she  scarcely 
knew,  demonstrated,  however,  the  idea  of  religious 
mystery  with  which  this  place  was  surrounded,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  vague  fear  and  respect  with  which  it 
was  imbued.  Further  on  was  the  Oak  Forest,  whence 
would  proceed,  according  to  tradition,  a  woman  who 
would  redeem  the  kingdom  lost  by  a  woman  (Isabel  of 
Bavaria).  Jeanne  knew  this  legend  of  the  forest,  and 
repeated  it  often,  applying  it  to  herself.  On  certain 
fete  days  the  young  village  maidens  assembled  at  the 
tree  of  the  fairies  with  cakes  and  garlands  of  flowers  to 
dance  and  play.  Jeanne  went  with  them,  but  not  to 
dance  ;  and  she  often  sat  there  alone  indulging  in  secret 
dreams.  But  from  the  day  the  enemy  brought  murder 
and  devastation  into  the  valley,  her  inspiration  became 
clearer.  One  idea  emanated  from  her  like  an  ardent 
prayer,  and  came  to  her  again  as  an  echo.  The  voice 
would  speak  to  her  as  the  voice  of  some  superior  being, 
a  being  distinct  from  herself,  and  whom,  in  her 
simplicity,  she  adored.  The  sublime  and  touching 
thought  is  that  this  humble  girl's  illusion  was  inspired 
by  the  vast  pity  she  felt  for  her  country  and  the 
persecuted  Dauphin.  Fostered  by  the  ideas  of  the 
times,  she  had  gradually  accustomed  herself  to  hear 
these  voices,  and  to  distinguish  them  as  the  voices  of 
God's  angels  and  of  those  saints  who  were  dearest  and 
best  known  to  her.  Her  familiar  angels  were  St. 
Michael  and  St.  Gabriel ;  and  St.  Catherine  and  St. 
Margaret  were  her  counsellors.  During  her  prosecu- 
tion, on  being  questioned  regarding  the  doctrine  taught 
her  by  St.  Michael — her  principal  guide  and  patron, — 


142  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

she  answered,  that  the  angel,  in  order  to  arouse  her, 
woxild  relate  the  calamities  that  had  befallen  the 
kingdom  of  France. 

Jeanne's  inspiration  came  through  her  intense  pity, 
not  the  pity  of  a  woman  who  expends  her  feelings  in 
tears,  but  the  compassion  of  a  heroine  who  feels  that 
she  has  a  mission,  and  who  wields  the  sword  to  succour 
the  unfortunate. 

It  seems  to  me  that  in  history  two  distinct  Jeannes 
have  existed,  who  have  been  confounded  one  with 
the  other,  and  it  is  difficult  now  to  restore  the  first 
and  original  one.  M.  Quicherat's  book  gives  us  the  key 
to  the  distinction.  The  original  Jeanne  is  not  quite 
like  the  heroine  of  tradition  and  legend  ;  she  is  not  so 
gentle  or  so  demure,  but  she  is  truer  and  more  energetic. 
When,  twenty  or  twenty-five  years  after  her  condemna- 
tion, inquiries  were  made  by  Charles  VIL,  in  his 
somewhat  tardy  gratitude,  the  old  witnesses  were 
questioned,  of  whom  a  good  number  still  existed.  But 
these  survivors  were  already  under  the  influence  of 
the  universal  legend,  and  were  unable  to  reject  it 
entirely. in  their  statements.  The  majority  appeared 
anxious  not  only  to  avenge  the  memory  of  Jeanne,  but 
to  idealize  her,  to  show  her  off  to  advantage  in  every 
way,  to  represent  her  as  the  most  blameless  and 
exemplary  of  girls  ;  and  we  can  readily  believe  they 
have  suppressed  a  good  many  characteristic  points  in 
her  nature.  For  instance,  there  is  a  vast  difference 
between  the  modest,  gentle  Jeanne  and  the  one  who  is 
supposed  to  have  jested  with  Captain  Kobert  de  Baudri- 
court,  answering,  in  a  somewhat  off-hand  way,  respect- 
ing matrimony  :  "  Yes — when  I  have  accomplished  all 
that  God  has  commanded  me,  I  shall  have  three  sons — 
one  of  whom  shall  be  a  pope,  one  an  emperor,  one  a 
king."  This  was  but  a  playful  war  of  words  with  the 


JEANNE  D'ARC.  143 

captain,  and  no  doubt  she  only  gave  him  his  change,  as 
one  might  say,  and  he  replied  like  a  real  old  soldier  in 
similar  tones. 

When  this  girl  of  sixteen  left  her  native  village 
determined  to  win  France,  she  was  full  of  daring 
vigour  both  in  word  and  action,  though  to  a  certain 
extent  this  quality  failed  her  during  her  long  months 
of  imprisonment  at  Eouen.  Her  voice  rang  with  light- 
hearted  confidence.  When  she  held  neither  a  sword 
nor  a  banner  she  carried  a  baton  in  her  hand,  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  period,  and  this  baton  she  used  for 
many  purposes.  "  By  my  baton  I  will  make  them 
bring  provisions,"  she  would  swear,  in  speaking  of  the 
citizens  of  Orleans.  This  word  baton  she  continu- 
ally made  use  of  was,  according  to  our  best-informed 
historian,  her  ordinary  oath.  On  hearing  the  worthy 
knight  La  Hire  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  in  vain,  she 
reproved  him,  telling  him  to  do  as  she  did,  and  swear 
by  his  baton.  She  was  quite  delighted,  when  informed 
by  Dunois  at  the  siege  of  Orleans,  that  an  English 
troop,  commanded  by  Falstoff,  was  approaching  to 
bring  help  to  the  assailants ;  and,  fearing  not  to  be 
warned  in  time,  so  as  to  be  prevented  going,  she 
exclaimed  to  Dunois  :  "Bastard,  Bastard,  in  the  name 
of  God"  (she  may  have  said,  "by  my  baton,"  but 
probably  the  witness  who  stated  this,  considered  the 
word  too  ignoble),  "  I  command  you,  as  soon  as  you 
learn  that  Falstoff  has  arrived,  to  let  me  know  ;  should 
he  come  without  your  informing  me,  /  will  have  your 
head  cut  off."  Even  were  this  said  only  in  jest,  we  see 
the  kind  of  jest  characteristic  of  the  real  Jeanne. 

She  is  supposed  to  have  had  a  horror  of  blood  ;  and 
when  asked  by  the  judges  which  she  preferred,  the 
banner  or  the  sword,  she  replied :  "  The  banner,  a 
thousand  times.  I  carry  the  banner  in  the  midst  of 


144  JEANNE  D"ARC. 

the  enemy  tliat  I  may  not  slay  ; "  and,  it  is  reported, 
she  never  killed  a  single  being.  This  evidence  is  very 
explicit ;  it  harmonizes  with  legend,  with  poetry,  and 
with  the  graceful  statuette  that  a  young  and  talented 
princess  has  left  of  Jeanne  d'Arc,  representing  her 
stopping  her  horse  at  the  first  sight  of  a  corpse.  Jeanne 
was  not  a  Judith,  nor  can  we  suppose  she  was  too 
gentle  or  compassionate.  She  is  said  to  have  uttered 
the  following  words  :  "  At  the  sight  of  a  Frenchman's 
blood  my  heart  stands  still."  But  we  must  admit  she 
considered  the  blood  of  the  English  and  Burgundians 
to  be  of  far  less  value.  As  a  child  she  knew  but  one 
Burgundian,  and  it  would  have  delighted  her  to  see  his 
head  cut  off,  "  always  supposing  that  it  had  been  the  wish 
of  God."  According  to  the  account  of  D'Aulon,  her 
steward,  at  the  siege  of  Orleans,  she  was  seen  vigorously 
attacking  the  enemy.  After  assailing  the  Bastille  of  St. 
Loup,  where  there  were  about  three  hundred  English- 
men (others  say  one  hundred  and  fifty),  she  planted 
her  banner  on  the  edge  of  the  trenches.  The  besieged 
wished  to  surrender  to  her;  but  she  refused  to 'take 
them  at  a  ransom,  crying,  "  I  will  capture  you  fairly." 
She  then  ordered  an  attack,  and  nearly  every  one  was  put 
to  death.  Speaking  of  a  certain  sword  taken  from  a 
Burgundian,  she  said  she  used  it  because  it  was  an 
excellent  war  sword  and  inflicted  good  cuffs  and  blows. 
This  would  show  that,  if  she  did  not  cut  or  thrust,  and 
if  she  used  the  point  as  seldom  as  possible,  she  was 
rather  fond  of  striking  with  the  flat  side  of  the  blade, 
as  she  was  wont  to  do  with  her  baton.  I  do  not 
mention  this  to  detract  in  any  way  from  the  beauty  of 
the  figure,  but  in  order  not  to  disguise  her  characteristic 
vigour  and  frankness. 

A  young  nobleman  (Guy  of  Laval),  who  saw  her  at  the 
time  of  her  glory,  wrote  of  her  to  his  mother,  describing 


JEANNE  PARC.  145 

her  from  head  to  foot.  "  I  saw  her  mount  her  horse,"  he 
says,  "  arrayed  entirely  in  an  armour  of  white,  with 
a  small  battle-axe  in  her  hand.  Her  black  steed  had 
pranced  and  shied  at  the  door  of  his  stable,  and  would 
not  let  her  mount.  '  Lead  him  to  the  cross,'  she  said. 
This  cross  was  near  the  church,  by  the  road-side.  On 
seeing  the  cross,  the  horse  became  tractable,  and  she 
was  able  to  mount  him."  The  young  narrator  saw  a 
miracle  in  this  occurrence.  All  narrators  and  eye- 
witnesses of  that  period  come  to  the  same  conclusion  in 
speaking  of  her,  and  the  most  minute  and  natural 
incidents  appear  to  them  miracles.  "  Once  on  her 
steed,  the  maiden,"  continues  Guy  of  Laval,  "turned 
to  the  door  of  the  church,  and  exclaimed,  in  her  clear, 
feminine  voice,  '  Ye  priests  and  people  of  the  church, 
make  your  processions,  offer  up  your  prayers  to  God  ; ' 
then  she  went  on  her  way,  crying, '  Forward  !  forward  1 ' 
A  graceful  page  marched  before  her,  bearing  a  furled 
banner,  while  in  her  hand  she  held  her  battle-axe." 

This  is  a  picture  of  Jeanne  in  all  her  military  grace 
and  beauty,  speaking  in  a  woman's  voice,  though  in* 
tones  of  command,  whether  addressing  her  pages,  or 
giving  orders  to  the  clergy. 

We  do  not  doubt  that  the  day  after  the  siege  of 
Orleans,  she  may  have  had  a  moment  of  wild  exaltation. 
In  the  fulness  of  her  accomplished  mission,  she  was 
tempted  to  say,  like  all  visionaries,  "  I  am  God's  voice." 
She  wrote  to  the  towns,  commanding  them  to  open 
their  gates  to  the  Maid  of  Orleans  ;  and  she  thus  issued 
her  commands  to  the  Dukes  of  Bedford  and  Burgundy  : 
"  In  the  name  of  the  King  of  Heaven,  my  Guide  and 
Sovereign  Saviour:"  When,  afterwards,  in  cooler 
moments,  her  letters  were  shown  to  her  in  prison,  she 
had  difficulty  in  recognising  them,  though  there  is  no 
doubt  they  were  thus  dictated  by  her.  She  wrote  to 
K 


146  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

the  heretics  of  Bohemia,  exhorting  them  to  return  to 
their  duty  :  "  I,  the  Maiden  Jeanne,  to  tell  you  the  real 
truth,  would  have  overtaken  yoii  long  ago  with  my 
avenging  arm,  had  not  the  war  with  the  English  de- 
tained me  here.  But  should  I  not  soon  hear  of  your 
amendment,  your  return  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  I 
may  perhaps  leave  the  English  and  turn  against  you,  to 
extirpate  your  frightful  superstitions."  Probably  the 
style  was  that  of  her  secretary,  but  the  ideas  must 
certainly  have  been  her  own.  The  Count  of  Armagnac 
wrote  to  her  from  the  confines  of  Spain  to  ask  which  of 
the  three  popes  then  reigning  was  the  legitimate  one. 
She  answered  :  "  I  am  too  much  taken  up  with  the  war 
to  satisfy  you  at  once.  But  when  you  know  I  am  in 
Paris,  send  me  a  message,  and  I  will  then  tell  you 
truthfully  in  whom  you  should  believe,  and  all  I  shall 
have  learnt  concerning  this  matter,  through  the  counsel 
of  my  Guide  and  Sovereign  Saviour,  the  King  of  the 
whole  world."  Such  letters  as  these,  produced  during 
the  prosecution,  strongly  supported  the  accusation 
'brought  against  her,  of  having  attempted  to  usurp  the 
functions  of  the  angels  of  God  and  His  ministers  on  this 
earth.  It  appears  certain  that,  however  unfavourable 
fortune  might  have  been  to  her,  she  would  have 
ventured  further  still,  with  the  counsel  of  her  voices  ; 
and  that  she  did  not  consider  herself  merely  destined 
to  raise  the  siege  of  Orleans  and  to  accomplish  the 
coronation  at  Rheims.  The  young  and  ardent  soul 
would  readily  have  entered  on  a  wider  field  ;  and  there, 
again,  I  fancy  I  perceive  the  primitive  Jeanne  d'Arc 
possessed  by  a  Demon  or  Genius  (whatever  you  like  to 
call  it),  but  a  Genius  in  the  garb  of  that  period  ;  the 
natural  Maid  of  Orleans,  with  no  undue  softness  about 
her — bright,  proud,  rather  rough,  swearing  by  her 
baton,  and  using  it  when  necessary  ;  a  little  intoxicated 


JEANNE  D'AXC.  •  147 

by  the  success  of  her  mission ;  full  of  confidence  in  her 
own  powers,  exclaiming,  "  I  am  the  voice  of  God ; " 
speaking  and  writing  in  the  name  of  God  to  the  princes, 
lords,  and  citizens  of  the  different  towns,  and  to  heretics 
in  foreign  countries  ;  inclined,  too,  to  go  into  questions 
of  orthodoxy  and  Christianity,  if  only  allowed  leisure 
to  listen  to  her  voices.  Already  the  people,  in  their 
extreme  devotion,  urged  her  on  iu  her  convictions  ;  they 
were  predisposed  to  believe  in  her,  to  reverently  render 
her  their  devoted  homage.  But  alas  for  her  great  and 
glorious  career,  which  she  was  able  only  to  rough-hew, 
for  she  hardly  gained  a  glimpse  of  it  during  the  few 
months  of  her  triumph,  and  this  is  not  to  be  regretted  ; 
it  is  in  the  peculiar  heroism  of  her  mission  that  she  is 
so  touching  and  sublime.  Her  contemporaries  felt  this 
after  her  death.  Therefore,  nearly  all  those  in  her 
favour  (and  all  were  more  or  less  so  in  the  prods  de  re- 
habilitation) cling  to  the  belief  that  she  never  professed 
to  be  destined  to  perform  more  than  the  special  acts  of 
raising  the  siege  of  Orleans,  and  conducting  the  king  to 
Rheims  ;  consequently,  she  accomplished  all  that  the 
voices  told  her.  This  is  an  illusion  of  the  national 
imagination,  which  would  like  to  render  Jeanne 
infallible.  But  we  have  positive  evidence  that  her 
voices  promised  much  more  from  her  than  she  would 
perform,  and  in  her  death-agony,  her  faith  and  supreme 
confidence  in  God  must  have  been  great  to  enable  her  to 
exclaim,  in  the  midst  of  the  flames,  "  My  voices  have 
not,  after  all,  misled  me ! " 

In  emphasizing  the  energetic  and  somewhat  rough 
characteristics  of  the  noble* shepherdess,  far  be  it  from 
me  to  deny  her  the  quality  of  gentleness,  a  gentleness 
all  the  more  deep  and  true  that  it  was  not  excessive. 
During  the  march  from  Rheims  to  Paris  (August  1429), 
as  she  was  arriving -with  the  king  from  the  neighbour- 


148  •  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

Iiood  of  La  Ferte-Milon  and  Crepy-en-Valois,  the  people 
came  out  in  crowds  to  meet  her,  crying  Noel.*  Jeanne, 
who  was  riding  between  the  Archbishop  of  Rheiins  and 
the  Count  Dunois?,  remarked,  "  These  are  good  people  ; 
I  have  never  seen  any  so  glad  to  welcome  the  arrival  of 
such  a  noble  king.  God  grant  that  when  I  end  my 
days  I  may  be  buried  in  their  midst."  To  which  the 
Archbishop  replied,  "Jeanne,  where  do  you  hope  to 
die  1 "  She  replied,  "  Wherever  it  shall  please  God,  for 
I  am  not  more  certain  of  time  and  place  than  you  are 
yourselves ;  and  may  it  please  my  Creator  to  let  me , 
retire  now  from  warfare  to  serve  my  father  and  mother 
in  tending  their  sheep.""  Here  we  see  the  real  gentleness 
of  Jeanne's  nature  after  her  momentary  enthusiasm, 
when  the  excitement  of  war  had  passed. 

It  is  superfluous  to  say  she  was  perfectly  chaste  ;  all 
witnesses  are  unanimous  on  this  point.  The  old  Squire 
Bertrand  de  Poulengy,  who  in  his  youth  had  the  honour 
of  escorting  Jeanne  from  Vaucouleurs  to  Chinon,  and 
the  Duke  d'Alen^on,  her  favourite  among  all  the 
captains,  both  testify  strongly  that,  notwithstanding  the 
dangers  of  close  companionship,  no  immodest  thought 
ever  shadowed  the  purity  of  her  simple,  modest  virtue. 

The  judges  who  condemned  her  were  insulting,  and 
the  Bishop  of  Beauvais,  who  conducted  the  case, 
united  the  most  consummate  craft  with  his  brutality. 
But  that  which  is  the  most  striking  in  these  days, 
when  we  read  the  entire  procedure,  is  the  outrageous 
materialism  of  those  theological  practitioners,  who 
understood  nothing  of  Jeanne's  vivid  inspiration,  who 
in  all  their  questions  strove  to  debase  her  elevated  and 
simple  meaning,  though  they  were  unable  to  render  it 
coarse.  They  appeared,  above  all,  extremely  anxious 

*  A  popular  exclamation  of  delight,  used  at  that  time  by  the 
Freiich  people  in  welcoming  a  sovereign. — TE. 


JEANNE  D'ARC.  149 

to  ascertain  under  what  form  she  had  seen  St.  Michael. 
"  Did  he  wear  a  crown  ?  Had  he  any  clothes  1  Was 
he  not  entirely  naked  ? "  To  which  Jeanne  replied, 
much  to  their  discomfiture,  "  Do  you  think  that  God 
could  not  clothe  him  1 "  They  always  returned  to 
this  foolish  question.  She  at  last  silenced  them  by 
saying,  "  He  appeared  to  me  in  the  form  and  vesture 
of  a  truly  honest  man."  Once,  at  Poictiers,  during  the 
early  days  of  her  arrival  at  court,  when  one  of  the 
doctors  of  the  place  wished  to  know  absolutely  from 
her  what  kind  of  dialect  the  Archangel  used  in  address- 
ing her,  she  answered  the  provincial  doctor,  "He 
speaks  much  better  French  than  you  do."  It  is  re- 
markable that  the  .proch  of  condemnation,  organized 
with  the  object  of  dishonouring  the  memory  of  Jeanne, 
has  been  rather  the  means  of  sustaining  it.  We  are 
inclined  to  think  with  M.  Quicherat  that,  though 
carried  on  by  the  judges  and  her  enemies,  it  redounds 
more  to  the  honour  of  the  real  Jeanne  d'Arc,  is  more 
conducive  to  our  full  understanding  of  her  life,  more 
trustworthy  in  all  that  concerns  her,  than  the  proems  de 
rehabilitation,  already  to  some  extent  tainted  by  idle 
legend.  Jeanne's  finest  sayings,  her  most  simple,  true, 
and  heroic  words,  have  been  recorded  by  the  judges, 
who  have  handed  them  down  to  us.  This  proems  was 
much  more  en  regie  (according  to  the  inquisitorial  law 
then  in  force)  than  has  since  been  believed,  though  it 
was  none  the  less  odious  and  execrable.  But  these 
judges,  like  all  the  Pharisees  of  the  world,  like  those 
who  condemned  Socrates,  like  those  who  condemned 
Jesus,  did  not  thoroughly  know  what  they  were  doing, 
and  their  authentically  written  exposition  of  the  case 
forms  the  immortal  and  avenging  gospel  of  the  victim. 
Those  judges,  anxious  to  convict  her  of  idolatry, 
questioned  her  incessantly  about  the  picture  on  her 


ISO  JEANNE  D'ARC. 

banner,  whether  she  did  not  think  that  such  a  banner 
possessed  magical  power.  To  which  she  replied,  that 
her  only  magic  lay  in  the  following  words  addressed 
to  her  men:  "Throw  yourselves  boldly  among  the 
English  ;  I  shall  lead  you  on  ! "  She  was  severely 
censured  for  having  had  the  same  banner  conveyed  to 
the  church  at  Rheims  for  the  coronation,  in  preference 
to  any  other.  Her  answer  was  the  following  oft-quoted 
speech  :  "  It  had  been  all  through  the  misery,  it.  was 
but  right  it  should  also  have  the  glory  and  honour." 

There  is  an  admirable  passage  in  Homer.  Hector 
having  driven  the  Greeks  from  the  walls  of  Troy,  is  on 
his  way  to  besiege  .them  in  their  camps,  and  attack 
their  retrenchments,  determined  also  to  set  their  ships 
on  fire  ;  when  suddenly  a  miracle  takes  place.  An 
eagle  appears  in  the  sky,  grasping  between  its  claws  a 
serpent,  which,  mutilated  as  it  is,  tears  open  the  breast 
of  its  imperious  enemy,  forcing  it  to  relinquish  its 
hold.  At  this  sight,  a  certain  Trojan  (Polydamas  by 
name),  wise  in  omens,  approaches  Hector,  and,  after 
interpreting  the  sign  to  him,  advises  him  to  relinquish 
the  field  that  he  already  considers  his  own.  At  these 
words,  Hector  is  furious,  and  threatens  to  pierce 
Polydamas  with  his  lance,  saying,  "  It  matters  little 
to  me  what  the  birds  portend  !  My  orders  come  direct 
from  mighty  Jupiter,  the  only  god  whose  will  is 
omnipotent.  There  is  but  one  supreme  augury,  and 
that  is,  fight  for  one's  country." 

In  the  attack  upon  Paris,  which  occurred  the  8th  of 
September  (a  festival  in  honour  of  the  Nativity  of 
Our  Lady),  Jeanne  was  wounded,  and  this  was  the  end 
of  her  success.  This  ordering  of  the  attack  on  a  festival 
of  the  Church  was  made  a  chief  point  against  her  ;  the 
doctors  and  judges  accused  her  of  irreverence  and  lack 
of  religious  devotion.  In  questioning,  her,  they  said, 


JEANNE  PARC.  151 

"You  knew  it  was  a  Church  festival,  was  it  right  on 
your  part  to  fight  on  such  a  day  ?"  She  eluded  further 
questions  on  the  subject,  and  answered,  with  downcast 
eyes,  "  Pass  on  to  something  else." 

The  noble  girl,  thus  in  the  serpent's  coils,  dared  not 
answer  like  Hector,  though  she  thought  as  he  did. 
Like  him,  she  had  direct  commands  from  the  Almighty 
God.  What  mattered  other  auguries  to  her !  Direct 
inspiration  gave  her  faith  and  strength ;  yet  this  very 
inspiration  was  a  crime  in  the  eyes  of  her  judges. 
She  had  firm  belief  in  the  reality  of  her  voices,  and, 
like  all  visionaries,  she  believed  she  drew  her  inspira- 
tion from  its  very  source,  from  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God. 
The  ecclesiastical  order,  the  Church,  organized  as  it 
was  in  these  days,  appeared  to  her  to  be  probably 
worthy  of  respect,  but  her  voices  held  the  first  place 
in  her  consideration.  She  felt  that  she  possessed  the 
moral  power  to  command  both  priests  and  churchmen, 
to  rouse  them  and  lead  them  back  to  the  right  path, 
just  as  she  had  led  princes  and  captains.  Therefore, 
in  the  proems  de  rehabilitation,  we  do  not  find  that 
Roine  was  so  eager  or  so  well-disposed  as  might  have 
been  imagined.  The  king  was  obliged  to  put  pressure 
on  the  pope  ;  and  Jeanne,  who  had  every  qualification 
for  being  canonized,  was  never  more  than  the  saint 
of  the  people  and  of  France. 

Historians  understand  her  at  last ;  they  present  the 
simple  maiden  in  a  proper  light,  and  we  cannot  help 
recalling  to  our  remembrance  what  M.  Michelet  says 
in  vol.  v.  of  his  Histoire  de  France.  Nevertheless,  a 
severely  precise  criticism  might  detect  many  errors  and 
deviations  from  the  exact  truth  in  that  brilliantly 
written  sketch.  The  author,  as  usual,  strives  after 
effect,  he  forces  his  colouring,  he  makes  mere  buffoons 
of  the  intervening  characters,  trifles  in  the  wrong 


152  JEANNE  PARC. 

places,  adopts  an  unnatural  gaiety  and  smartness, 
and  is  too  dramatic  and  fond  of  metaphor.  The 
impression  he  leaves  with  one,  of  the  proces,  does  not 
agree  with  the  original  interrogatories,  which  are  much 
more  grave  and  simple.  With  these  reservations,  how- 
ever, we  must  admit  that  M.  Michelet  has  grasped  the 
spirit  of  the  chief  personage,  that  he  has  vividly  pour- 
trayed  the  impulsive  excitement  of  the  populace,  the 
shouts  of  enthusiasm,  which,  truer  and  more  powerful 
than  any  set  doctrine,  rose  in  honour  of  the  noble 
maiden, — an  enthusiasm  which,  in  spite  of  Chapelaiu 
and  Voltaire,  has  enshrined  her  ever  since.  The  Jeanne 
d'Arc  of  M.  Michelet  is  truer  than  any  former  one. 

There  remains,  I  believe,  in  the  volumes  just  published 
by  M.  Quicherat,  yet  another  Jeanne  d'Arc  to  discover, 
a  heroine  so  skilfully  yet  simply  pourtrayed,  that  she 
must  satisfy  every  generously  reasonable  mind.  Even 
should  philosophical  criticism  find  that  there  are  some 
inexplicable  points  which  can  never  be  reconciled,  I 
do  not  consider  this  a  very  grave  misfortune.  Shake- 
speare's Hamlet  admirably  says,  "There  are  more 
things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreamt  of  in 
our  philosophy."  If  we  read  M.  Quicherat's  volumes 
attentively,  and  take  into  consideration  the  difficulties 
he  himself  admits,  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  impossible, 
after  such  careful  and  unprejudiced  study,  to  evolve 
from  them  a  Jeanne  d'Arc  at  once  sincere,  sublime, 
and  unpretending. 


MARIE    ANTOINETTE. 
1851. 


AMONQ  all  the  books  and  papers  which  may  happen  to 
give  a  correct  idea  of  Queen  Marie  Antoinette,  and  of 
her  character  in  her  youthful  years  of  prosperity,  I  do 
not  know  any  which  better  convinces  the  reader's  mindj 
than  the  simple  notes  from  the  Comte  de  La  Marck's 
diary,  inserted  by  M.  Bacourt  into  the  introduction  of 
the  work  he  has  recently  published  on  Mirabeau.  In 
a  few  clearly  expressed  pages,  the  Comte  de  La  Marck 
reveals  to  us  the  true  character  of  the  Queen  ;  in  them 
we  find  a  Marie  Antoinette  real  and  natural,  and  not 
overdrawn  in  any  way.  We  anticipate  the  faults  to 
which  her  surroundings  will  not  fail  to  impel  her, 
those  which  will  be  attributed  to  her,  and  the  weapons 
which  unwittingly  she  will  furnish  to  the  malice 
of  her  enemies.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  such  an 
impartial  and  skilful  observer  did  not  draw  a  like 
portrait  of  the  Queen,  at  different  stages  of  her  life,  up 
to  the  supreme  hour  of  her  immolation,  when  all  the 
noble  qualities  and  virtues  of  her  heart  were  so 
courageously  revealed,  that  they  must  interest  and 
impress  every  human  being. 

It  is  a  way  of  approaching  Marie  Antoinette  which 
to  me  appears  just,  and  which  I  would  wish  to  define, 

153 


154  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

because  I  consider  that  all  historical  judgment  should 
be  concluded  from  the  same  data.  From  a  feeling  born 
of  compassion,  some  are  charmed  into  an  ideal  interest 
in  Marie  Antoinette  ;  they  wish  to  defend  her  from  all 
attacks,  constitute  themselves  her  advocates,  her  knights- 
errant  ;  are  indignant  at  the  mere  idea  of  faults  and 
weaknesses  which  others  think  they  discover  in  her  life. 
This  r6le  of  defender  is  highly  honourable  if  it  is  sincere ; 
it  is  easily  to  be  conceived  as  existing  among  those  with 
whom  the  old  order  of  royalty  is  a  creed,  but  among 
the  newer,  modern-minded  men,  it  impresses  me  less, 
as  I  doubt  its  sincerity.  Such  views  and  feelings  are 
not  mine  ;  they  can  scarcely  be  the  views  and  feelings 
of  men  who  have  not  to  any  great  extent  been  educated 
in  the  tradition  of  the  old  monarchy,  and  this  we  can- 
not deny  to  be  the  case  with  the  great  majority  of  the 
present  and  also  of  the  coming  generation.  What 
appears  to  me  the  safest  course,  and  the  most  desirable, 
for  that  touching  memory  of  Marie  Antoinette,  is  to 
try  to  detach  from  the  great  heap  of  writings  and 
testimonies,  of  which  she  has  been  the  subject,  the 
beautiful,  noble,  gracious  figure,  with  all  its  weaknesses, 
frivolities,  frailties  perhaps, — but  with  all  its  essential 
good  qualities  preserved  and  acknowledged  in  their 
integrity  ;  the  virtues  of  wife,  mother,  and,  at  certain 
moments,  of  queen,  kind-hearted  and  generous  at 
all  times,  and  finally  displaying  the  merits  of  resig- 
nation, courage,  and  sweetness,  which  crown  great 
misfortunes.  When  such  a  fair  and  even  judgment" 
is  once  historically  established,  she  will  continue, 
through  all  the  ages,  to  excite  the  interest  of  those  who, 
becoming  more  and  more  indifferent  to  the  politics  of 
the  past,  will  still  cherish  those  delicate  and  humane 
sentiments  which  are  a  part  of  civilisation,  and  the 
source  of  that  sympathy  which,  weeping  over  the  mis- 


'  MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  155 

fortunes  of  Hecuba  and  Andromache,  will  deplore  her 
similar  but  greater  miseries. 

But  there  is  this  difference,  that  poetry  alone  is 
responsible  for  the  tradition  of  Andromache  and 
Hecuba,  and  we  have  no  memoirs  of  the  court  of 
Priam,  whilst  we  do  possess  those  of  the  court  of 
Louis  the  XVI.,  and  by  no  means  can  they  be  ignored. 
And  what  do  those  memoirs  say  of  Marie  Antoinette  1 
I  speak  of  faithful,  not  of  libellous  memoirs.  What 
says  the  Comte  de  La  Marck,  who  sums  up  very  ably 
the  spirit  of  that  earlier  time  1 

Fifteen  when  she  arrived  in  France,  the  young 
Dauphiness  was  not  nineteen  when  she  found  herself 
the  Queen  of  Louis  XVI.  This  prince  had  received 
solid  instruction,  and  was  endowed  with  good  moral 
principles,  as  we  know ;  but  he  was  feeble,  timid, 
brusque,  and  rude,  and  particularly  ungracious  towards 
women,  possessing  none  of  the  qualities  necessary  to 
direct  and  guide  a  young  wife.  She,  the  daughter  of 
an  illustrious  mother,  Marie  Thdrese,  had  in  her  early 
training  at  Vienna  been  sadly  neglected,  as  her  mother 
was  too  much  occupied  with  State  affairs  to  superintend 
the  education  of  her  daughter.  No  one  had  ever  tried 
to  cultivate  in  her  mind  a  taste  for  serious  reading  ;  so, 
although  she  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  intelligence, 
and  "quickly  grasped  and  understood  things  told  her," 
she  had  no  great  capacity  ;  and,  in  fact,  was  too  indolent 
to  repair  the  defects  of  education,  and  the  want  of 
experience.  Amiable,  gay,  and  full  of  innocent  fun,, 
she  was  especially  kind-hearted,  and  always  anxious 
to  oblige  any  one  who  appealed  to  her.  She  had  a 
great  craving  for  intimate  friendship,  and  immediately 
sought  some  closer  acquaintanceship  than  is  usual  in 
courts.  Her  idea  of  happiness  (we  each  form  our  own) 
was  to  escape  from  ceremonial,  which  wearied  her,  and 


156  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

to  create  for  herself  a  little  world  of  kindly,  happy, 
devoted,  chosen  followers,  among  whom,  to  outward 
seeming,  she  forgot  that  she  was  a  queen,  although  in 
reality  her  royal  dignity  was  not  forgotten.  She  loved, 
so  to  speak,  to  give  herself  the  pleasure  of  this  oblivion, 
not  to  recall  her  own  identity  till  some  opportunity 
arose  for  showering  good  gifts  around  her ;  just  as,  in 
pastorals  and  comic  operas,  we  have  seen  disguised 
queens  who  in  this  way  charm  and  delight  all  who 
surround  them.  Marie  Antoinette  might  have  been 
able  to  realize  this  ideal  life  without  any  inconvenience, 
had  she  remained  a  simple  arch-duchess  at  Vienna,  or 
had  she  reigned  over  some  small  domain  like  Tuscany 
or  Lorraine.  But  in  France  this  kind  of  life  could  not 
be  tried  with  the  same  freedom  ;  and  her  Petit  Trianon, 
with  its  dairies,  its  sheep-folds,  and  its  comedies,  was 
too  near  Versailles ;  Envy  prowled  around  those  favoured 
spots,  Envy  beckoning  on  Calumny  and  Slander. 

M.  de  La  Marck  has  shown  us  how  injudicious  it  was 
on  the  part  of  the  Queen  to  confine  herself  so  exclusively 
to  the  circle  of  the  Comtesse  Jules  de  Polignac,  to  confer 
on  her,  along  with  the  position  of  a  friend,  the  appear- 
ance of  a  favourite ;  and  to  allow  all  the  men  of  that 
coterie  (men  like  Vaudreuil,  Besenval,  and  Adhemar)  to 
assume  pretensions  and  privileges,  which  each,  accord- 
ing to  his  disposition  or  ambition,  so  quickly  abused. 
Although  she  never  understood  the  full  extent  of  this 
inexpediency,  she  did  perceive  it  to  some  extent ;  and 
began  to  feel  that  where  she  sought  to  find  repose  and 
refreshment,  and  relaxation  from  the  duties  of  exalted 
rank,  she  was  still  beset  by  importunity ;  and  when 
some  one  remarked  to  her  that  she  showed  too  great  a 
preference  for  the  distinguished  strangers  who  sojourned 
in  France,  and  that  this  was  prejudicial  to  her  own 
popularity  among  the  French  people,  she  replied 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  157 

sadly,  "  You  are  right,  but  they  at  least  ask  me  for 
nothing." 

Some  of  those  men  thus  admitted  to  the  intimate 
favour  of  the  Queen,  and  bound  by  gratitude  and 
respect,  were  the  first  to  speak  lightly  of  her,  because 
they  did  not  find  her  submissive  enough  to  their  aims. 
When  on  one  occasion  she  seemed  to  withdraw  a  little 
from  the  Polignac  circle,  and  to  frequent  oftener  the 
salon  of  Mine.  d'Ossun,  her  lady  of  the  bedchamber, 
a  habitud  of  the  Polignac  circle  (whom  M.  de  La 
Marck  does  not  name,  but  who  seems  to  have  been  an 
important  member  of  the  circle),  composed  a  very 
wicked  couplet  against  the  Queen  ;  and  this  couplet, 
founded  on  an  infamous  lie,  was  soon  circulated  in 
Paris.  Thus  did  even  the  Court  and  the  Queen's 
intimate  circle  furnish  the  first  leaven  which  was  to 
mingle  with  the  coarseness  and  infamy  of  the  outside 
world.  As  for  the  Queen  herself,  she  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  going  on,  and  never  suspected  the  cause  of 
her  disfavour  at  Versailles,  any  more  than  of  her 
estrangement  in  Paris. 

Even  at  the  present  day,  if  we  wish  to  quote  some 
testimony  against  Marie  Antoinette,  we  go  to  the  Memoirs 
of  the  Baron  de  Besenval  to  find  it  Ordered  to  appear 
before  the  Queen  in  1778,  at  the  time  of  the  duel  between 
the  Comte  d'Artois  and  the  Due  de  Bourbon,  M.  de 
Besenval  was  introduced  by  Campan  (the  private 
secretary)  into  a  secret  room  which  he  had  not  known 
of  before,  "  simply  but  conveniently  furnished.  I  was 
astonished,"  he  added,  "  not  that  the  Queen  required  so 
many  facilities,  but  that  she  had  dared  to  procure 
them."  This  phrase  spread  abroad,  was  suggestive,  and 
enemies  were  not  wanting  to  take  it  up. 

We  now  approach  the  most  delicate  part  of  the 
subject,  and  as  I  am  not  afraid,  I  shall  not  affect 


158  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

more  reticence  than  is  necessary.  There  are  persons 
who  are  most  anxious  to  deny  absolutely  all  levity, 
and  all  heart  weakness,  on  the  part  of  Marie  Antoinette. 
But,  assuming  that  either  were  apparent  at  this  time  of 
her  life,  for  my  part  I  boldly  affirm  that  the  interest 
attached  to  her  memory,  the  pity  which  her  misfortunes 
and  her  noble  manner  of  bearing  them  excites,  the  execra- 
tion which  her  judges  and  jailors  deserve,  must  in  no  way 
depend  on  any  discovery  relating  to  former  womanly 
weaknesses,  nor  be  in  the  smallest  degree  invalidated 
by  such  a  discovery.  Now,  taking  into  account  all  our 
actual  historical  information  and  trustworthy  testimony 
regarding  Marie  Antoinette,  and  remembering  also 
what  we  have  been  told  by  well-informed  contempor- 
aries, it  is  quite  permissible  to  suppose  that  this  young 
creature,  with  all  her  lively,  tender  feelings,  ready  to  be 
impressed  by  elegant  manners  and  chivalrous  attentions, 
craving  for  sympathy  and  support,  had,  during  her 
youth,  some  preference  ;  it  would  be  the  contrary  rather 
which  would  be  strange.  Many  ambitious  men,  many 
coxcombs,  tried  to  gain  her  good  graces,  and  were  dis- 
appointed ;  the  innumerable  attempts  had  only  begin- 
nings. We  heard  Lauzun  the  other  day  describe  his 
adventure ;  but  although  he  tells  his  story  in  his  own 
way,  he  breaks  down.  The  Prince  de  Ligne  often  came 
to  France  at  this  time,  and  was  one  of  those  strangers, 
altogether  French  and  altogether  agreeable,  with  whom 
the  Queen  was  particularly  well  pleased.  He  had  the 
honour  of  accompanying  the  Queen  in  her  morning 
rides.  "  It  was,"  he  says,  "in  such  rides  alone  with  the 
Queen,  although  accompanied  by  her  brilliant  royal 
escort,  that  she  told  me  a  thousand  interesting  anecdotes 
concerning  herself,  and  all  the  traps  which  had  been 
laid  to  give  her  a  lover.  At  one  time  it  was  the  house 
of  Noailles  which  wished  her  to  take  the  Vicomte  ;  at 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  159 

another,  the  Choiseul  /action  destined  Biion  (Lauzun) 
for  her.  La  Duchesse  de  Duras,  when  it  was  her  week 
to  be  in  attendance,  accompanied  us  in  our  rides,  but 
we  left  her  with  the  equerries  ;  and  this  was  one  of  the 
Queen's  blunders,  one  of  her  greatest  crimes,  since  she 
never  committed  any  other,  that  bores  and  tiresome 
persons,  who  are  always  implacable  in  their  resentment, 
considered  themselves  neglected."  So  this  is  the  Queen's 
version  of  Lauzun's  story :  I  would  always  have  it 
remembered,  that  it  is  improbable  that  Lauzun  acted 
for  the  Choiseul  faction,  with  whom  he  was  never  on 
good  terms ;  but  it  was  the  interest  of  the  Queen's 
entourage  to  present  him  in  this  light  to  ruin  him 
definitely.  It  was  this  same  Prince  de  Ligne  who 
elsewhere  said  of  the  Queen,  "  her  pretended  gallantry 
was  never  anything  more  than  deep  friendship,  with 
which  she  distinguished  one  or  two  persons  "  (I  retain  his 
style  of  Grand  Seigneur),  "and  the  womanly  coquetry 
natural  in  a  young  Queen  who  desired  to  please  every- 
body.'"' This  impression,  or  conjecture,*  which  I  find 
shared  by  other  keen  observers  who  have  written  of 
Marie  Antoinette,  is,  I  believe,  most  likely  to  be 
correct.  The  two  persons  whom  she  so  particularly 
distinguished  at  different  times,  appear  to  have  been, 
first,  the  Due  de  Coigny,  a  sensible,  prudent  man  of 
mature  years  ;  and,  secondly,  M.  de  Fersen,  colonel  in 
the  regiment  of  Swedish  Guards  in  the  service  of 
France,  a  man  of  high  character  and  chivalrous  nature, 
who,  in  days  of  misfortune,  betrayed  himself  only  by 
his  absolute  devotion. 

Now,  when  we  discuss  matters  of  such  very  peculiar 
and  intimate  secrecy,  matters  about  which  it  is  so 
very  easy  to  form  many  suppositions,  and  so  difficult 
to  acquire  any  certain  knowledge,  I  think  it  well  to 
recall  to  mind  the  apt  expression  of  Mme.  de  Laesay 


160  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

(the  illegitimate  daughter  of  a  Conde),  who,  when 
she  heard  her  husband  discussing  very  plainly  the 
virtue  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  looked  at  him  with  amaze- 
ment, and  with  admirable  coolness  remarked,  "  What 
did  you  do,  monsieur,  that  you  seem  so  perfectly  sure 
about  matters  of  that  kind  1 "  The  remark,  which  was 
very  sharp  from  a  wife  to  a  husband,  who  challenged 
it  by  his  claim  of  authoritative  judge  of  disputed 
virtue,  is  true  in  other  senses,  and  might  with  equal 
justice  be  addressed  to  those  who  are  so  sure  of  the 
errors  of  others,  even  when  those  errors  had  no 
witnesses. 

The  beauty  of  the  Queen  in  her  youth  is  famous, 
although  it  was  not  the  kind  of  beauty  where  each 
feature  might  be  examined  and  criticised  apart ;  her 
eyes,  although  expressive,  were  not  very  beautiful ;  her 
aquiline  nose  was  perhaps  too  pronounced.  "  I  am  not 
quite  sure  that  her  nose  really  ought  to  have  belonged 
to  her  face,"  said  one  witty  observer.  Her  lower  lip 
was  thicker  than  we  care  for  in  a  beautiful  woman, 
her  figure  was  also  a  little  too  full ;  but  the  whole  was 
a  beautiful  woman,  with  an  air  of  noble  dignity.  Even 
in  deshabille  it  was  a  regal  beauty  rather  than  the 
beauty  of  a  woman  of  the  world.  "  No  woman,"  said  M. 
de  Meilhan,  "  carried  her  head  better ;  it  seemed  poised 
so  perfectly  that  each  of  her  movements  was  full  of 
grace  and  majesty.  Her  carriage  was  noble,  her  step 
light  and  firm,  and  recalled  the  expression  of  Virgil, 
Incessu  patuit  dea.  The  most  uncommon  thing  about 
her,  was  a  most  imposing  union  of  grace  and  dignity." 
Add  a  complexion  of  dazzling  whiteness,  lovely  hands 
and  arms,  a  charming  smile,  a  winning  gift  of  language 
which  expressed  more  heart  than  wit,  and  showed  her 
desire  to  please  and  to  be  pleased.  She  could  enjoy 
and  permit,  as  she  liked,  liberty  of  speech,  and  freedom- 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  161 

from  restraint  in  pleasures  and  amusements  ;  she  could 
play  at  being  a.  shepherdess  or  a  woman  of  the  world, 
for  she  had  only  to  rise  up,  and  with  one  little  motion 
of  her  head  she  was  at  once  the  Queen. 

For  a  long  time  the  gracious  woman,  secure  in  the 
prestige  of  her  royal  dignity,  and  thinking  only  of 
tempering  with  kindness  the  etiquette  which  surrounded 
her,  paid  no  attention  to  politics  ;  or,  if  she  did,  it  was 
only  incidentally,  or  when,  in  a  manner,  forced  to  it  by 
the  advice  of  her  intimates.  She  continued  her  life  of 
fairy-like  illusion,  while  already  odious  reports,  satirical 
couplets,  and  infamous  pamphlets  were  circulating  in 
Paris,  imputing  to  her  a  systematic,  secret  influence 
which  she  had  not  assumed.  The  Collier  affair  was  the 
first  signal  of  misfortune  ;  the  bandage,  which  till  then 
had  covered  her  eyes,  was  torn  off.  She  began  to  emerge 
from  her  enchanted  hamlet,  and  to  discover  the  world 
as  it  is  when  it  has  a  mind  to  be  wicked.  When  she 
was  at  length  persuaded  to  interest  herself  habitually 
in  politics,  and  to  form  opinions  of  her  own  on  the 
extraordinary  events  which  day  by  day  enforced  atten- 
tion, she  brought  the  most  unpolitical  mind  imaginable 
to  bear  upon  them  ;  I  mean  indignation  against  acts  of 
baseness  and  personal  prejudices,  which,  being  very 
evident,  did  not  always  help  to  make  her  cause  triumph  ; 
resentment  of  wrong  which  did  not  declare  itself  in  any 
desire  for  vengeance,  but  rather  by  the  delicate  and 
proud  forbearance  of  wounded  dignity.  If  Louis  XVI. 
had  been  different,  if  he  had  yielded  to  any  impulse  of 
active  energy,  there  is  no  doubt  that  at  one  moment  or 
another,  under  the  inspiration  of  the  Queen,  he  would 
have  attempted  some  enterprise,  which  might  probably 
have  been  a  rash  deed,  but  which,  on  the  other  hand, 
might  probably  have  established  firmly,  for  a  time,  the 
disturbed  order  of  monarchy.  But  he  did  not  do  this  ; 
L 


162  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

it  was  the  character  of  Louis  XVI.  which  failed,  and 
through  his  very  virtues  he  disappeared  from  his  rtile 
of  king  ;  his  nature,  a  compound  of  piety  and  human 
weakness,  even  bent  towards  self-sacrifice,  and  as  his 
character  became  gradually  weaker  and  weaker,  he 
could  have  recovered  his  greatness  only  by  becoming  a 
martyr.  The  Queen  had  not  power  to  triumph  over 
this  royal  indolence  and  incapacity ;  she  did  make 
several  attempts,  but  was  not  persistent  enough.  This 
is  the  ever-recurring  plaint  which  issues  from  the  pen 
of  the  Comte  de  La  Marck,  in  the  secret  correspondence 
which  is  j  ust  published.  "  The  Queen,"  he  writes  to  the 
Comte  de  Mercy- Argenteau  (30th  December  1790),  "the 
Queen  certainly  possesses  strength  of  mind,  and  sufficient 
firmness  to  enable  her  to  do  great  things  ;  but  it  must 
be  confessed,  and  you  have  had  better  opportunities  of 
remarking  it  than  I  have  had,  that,  be  it  on  business 
affairs,  or  simply  in  ordinary  conversation,  she  does  not 
always  display  that  amount  of  attention  and  persever- 
ance which  are  necessary  for  the  thorough  understand- 
ing of  what  one  ought  to  know  to  prevent  mistakes  and 
to  ensure  success."  And  elsewhere  we  find  from  the 
same  to  the  same  :  "  I  must  speak  out,  the  King  is 
incapable  of  reigning ;  and  the  Queen,  well  seconded, 
might  alone  make  good  this  incapacity.  But  even  this 
would  not  be  enough  ;  it  would  be  more  than  ever 
necessary  for  the  Queen  to  recognise  the  need  of 
applying  herself  to  business  with  method  and  persever- 
ing attention ;  she  would  have  to  make  it  a  rule  with 
herself  not  to  make  half-confidences  to  several  people, 
but,  instead,  to  give  her  whole  confidence  to  whoever 
she  might  choose  to  second  her."  And  again,  on  the 
10th  of  October  1791  :  "  The  Queen,  with  some  intelli- 
gence and  courage,  which  has  been  proved,  still  allows 
all  the  occasions  on  which  she  might  seize  the  reins  of 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  163 

government,  to  escape  her ;  and  continues  to  surround 
the  King  with  faithful  people,  devoted  to  her  service, 
and  to  the  salvation  of  the  State,  by  her  and  through 
her.  A  long-continued  habit  of  frivolous  thoughtlessness 
cannot  be  thrown  off  in  a  day ;  it  would  have  been 
more  like  the  genius  of  a  Catherine  of  Russia  to  struggle 
against  such  unforeseen  dangers  and  difficulties,  than  of 
one  who,  like  Marie  Antoinette,  had  never  opened  a  book 
of  history  in  her  life,  and  had  dreamt  only  of  royal 
indolence  and  of  village  leisure  at  Trianon  ;  it  is  enough 
that  this  past  frivolity  had  in  no  degree  degraded  or 
soiled  the  heart,  which  was  proved  to  be  as  generous,  as 
proud,  as  loyal,  and  as  nobly  gifted,  as  if  it  had  come 
straight  from  nature's  hand." 

I  shall  not,  as  may  be  well  supposed,  dispute  the  line 
of  politics  to  which  Marie  Antoinette  thought  it  best 
to  return  when  she  was  left  to  herself.  We  are  not 
constitutional  purists  ;  what  she  wished  was  certainly 
not  the  constitution  of  '91,  it  was  the  salvation  of  the 
throne,  the  salvation  of  France,  as  she  believed,  the 
honour  of  the  king,  and  her  own  honour,  and  that  of 
her  nobility,  the  integrity  of  the  heritage  which  would 
be  her  children's  ;  do  not  expect  anything  else  from  her. 
Those  of  her  letters  which  have  been  already  published, 
and  others  which  will  one  day  be  published,  will  allow 
this  portion  of  history  to  be  established  with  certainty. 

She  desired  the  safety  of  the  State,  through  her 
brother,  the  Emperor,  or  through  some  other  powerful 
foreign  aid,  but  not  by  the  aid  of  the  4migr&t  against 
whom  she  could  not  restrain  her  indignation.  "  The 
cowards,  after  having  abandoned  us,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  would  exact  that  we  run  all  the  risks,  and  serve  their 
interests."  In  an  excellent  letter  which  she  wrote  to 
the  Comte  de  Mercy-Argenteau,  we  find  her  saying, 
after  disclosing  a  desperate  plan,  "  I  have  listened,  aa 


1 64  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

attentively  as  I  could,  to  people  of  both  sides,  and  from 
the  advice  of  both  I  have  formed  my  own  opinion  ;  I 
do  not  know  if  my  advice  will  be  followed,  you  know 
with  whom  I  have  to  deal"  (the  king);  "the  moment  one 
believes  him  to  be  persuaded,  a  word,  an  argument, 
makes  him  change  before  you  can  suspect  it ;  this  is 
also  the  reason  why  so  many  things  cannot  be  attempted. 
Now,  whatever  happens,  let  me  retain  your  friendship' 
and  attachment,  I  have  much  need  of  such  support ;  and 
believe  that,  whatever  may  be  the  misfortune  which 
pursues  me,  I  may  yield  to  circumstances,  but  I  shall 
never  consent  to  anything  unworthy  of  myself  ;  it  is  in 
misfortune  that  I  feel  most  who  I  am.  My  blood  flows 
in  the  veins  of  my  son,  and  I  hope  that  one  day  he  will 
fhow  himself  worthy  of  being  the  grandson  of  Marie 
Thdrese." 

Her  last  gleam  of  joy  and  hope  was  the  journey  to 
Varennes.  When  this  oft-delayed  journey  was  at  last 
about  to  be  accomplished,  towards  midnight  the  Queen 
was  crossing  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  on  foot,  to  reach 
the  carriage  prepared  for  the  royal  family  by  M.  de 
Fersen,  when  she  was  met  by  the  passing  carriage  of 
M.  de  La  Fayette  ;  she  observed  it,  "  and  she  had  the 
spirit,  even  at  such  a  moment,  to  try  to  strike  the  wheels 
of  this  carriage  with  a  little  cane  she  carried  in  her 
hand."  It  was  an  innocent  revenge,  and  that  little 
switch  with  her  cane  may  be  called  her  last  act  of 
playfulness.  Three  days  later,  how  the  aspect  of  affairs 
had  changed.  The  instant  Mme.  Campan  came  into 
her  presence,  after  the  return  from  Varennes,  the  Queen, 
uncovering  her  head,  told  her  to  behold  the  effect  grief 
had  produced  on  her  hair  ;  "  in  one  single  night  it  had 
turned  as  white  as  the  hair  of  a  woman  of  seventy,  and 
she  was  thirty-six." 

The  two  last  years  of  the  Queen's  life  would  redeem 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  165 

a  thousand  times  as  many  faults  as  tins  gracious  lady 
could  have  committed  in  her  thoughtless  years,  and 
must  perpetuate  through  all  time  a  reverend  pity  for 
her  sad  fate.  A  prisoner  in  her  own  palace,  a  prey 
to  constant  agony  of  mind,  we  see  her  nature  being 
purified  day  by  day,  beside  that  sainted  sister,  Mme. 
Elizabeth,  her  principles  and  her  affections  fortified  and 
concentrated,  to  such  an  extent  as  would  have  been  im- 
possible had  her  heart  not  been  naturally  good  and  true 
and  incorrupt.  On  those  fatal  days  of  riot  and  insur- 
rection, when  even  her  private  apartments  were  invaded, 
she  remained  firm  at  her  post  of  duty  ;  she  bore  the  out- 
rage proudly,  nobly,  even  with  gentle  indulgence,  whilst 
with  her  own  body  she  protected  her  children.  In  the 
midst  of  her  own  peril,  she  was,  in  her  tender  goodness, 
only  troubled  about  others,  and  she  showed  herself 
most  careful  not  to  compromise  needlessly  those  in- 
terested in  her  cause.  On  that  last  day,  the  supreme 
day  of  royalty,  the  10th  of  August,  she  made  one  la.-t 
attempt  to  inspire  Louis  XVI.  with  the  courage  which 
would  have  made  him  die  a  king,  a  worthy  son  of 
Louis  XIV. ;  but  Louis  was  to  die  a  Christian,  the  son 
of  Saint  Louis. 

Then  she,  in  her  turn,  entered  on  this  path  of  heroism, 
full  of  patience  and  of  resignation.  Once  actually 
confined  in  the  Temple,  she  filled  up  her  time  with 
tapestry  work,  and  occupied  herself  with  the  education 
of  her  children,  composing  for  them  a  prayer,  and 
accustoming  herself  to  drink  the  cup  in  silence.  Her 
first  chill  warning  of  death  was  when  the  head  of  the 
Princess  de  Lamballe  was  presented  to  her  at  her 
prison  grating.  As  she  was  leaving  the  Temple  to  be 
transferred  to  the  Conciergerie,  she  struck  her  head 
against  the  lintel  of  the  door,  having  forgotten  to  stoop  ; 
and  when  some  one  asked  if  she  had  hurt  herself,  '  Oh 


166  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

no,"  she  replied,  "nothing  could  hurt  me  now."  But 
has  not  each  hour  of  her  agony  been  described  1  and  it 
is  not  our  task  to  tell  it  over  again.  I  do  not  believe 
it  possible  that  there  exists  a  monument  of  more 
atrocious  and  ignominious  stupidity,  than  the  Proces  de 
Marie  Antoinette,  as  it  is  reproduced  for  any  one  to 
read  in  vol.  xxix.  of  the  Histoire  parlementaire  de  la 
Revolution  frangaise.  Most  of  the  replies  made  by  her 
to  the  accusations,  are  either  cut  short  or  suppressed 
entirely  ;  but,  as  in  all  iniquitous  trials,  the  text  of  the 
imputations  itself  bears  witness  against  the  murderers. 
When  we  consider  that  a  century,  said  to  be  enlightened 
and  highly  cultivated,  lent  itself  to  public  acts  of  such 
barbarity,  we  begin  to  mistrust  human  nature,  and  to 
feel  appalled  at  its  brute  ferocity,  savage  and  fierce  in 
reality,  though  kept  within  bounds,  and  only  requiring 
opportunity  to  break  forth  unrestrainedly.  Immediately 
after  her  condemnation,  when  brought  back  from  the 
tribunal  to  the  Conciergerie,  Marie  Antoinette  wrote  a 
letter,  dated  the  16th  October,  half-past  four  in  the 
morning ;  it  was  addressed  to  Mme.  Elizabeth.  In 
this  letter,  a  fac-simile  of  which  has  recently  been 
published,  and  the  tone  of  which  breathes  the  greatest 
simplicity,  we  read :  "  It  is  to  you,  my  sister,  that  I  write 
for  the  last  time.  I  have  just  been  condemned,  not  to  a 
shameful  death,  that  is  only  for  criminals,  but  to  go  and 
rejoin  your  brother.  Like  him,  innocent,  I  hope  to  dis- 
play the  same  firmness  he  displayed  in  his  last  momenjts. 
I  am  calm  as  one  is  when  conscience  utters  no  reproach  ; 
my  one  deep  regret  is  to  abandon  my  poor  children.  You 
know  that  I  lived  only  for  them  ;  and  you,  my  good 
and  tender  sister,  you  who  in  your  devoted  love  have 
sacrificed  everything  to  be  with  us,  in  what  a  position  I 
leave  you!.  .  ."  The  truest  sentiments  of  wife,  of  friend, 
and  of  a  submissive  Christian,  breathe  through  this 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  167 

testamentary  letter.  We  know  that  Marie  Antoinette, 
a  few  hours  later,  gave  proof  of  that  calmness  and  firm- 
ness which  she  hoped  to  possess  at  the  last  moment, 
and  the  official  report  of  her  executioners  acknowledges 
that  she  mounted  the  scaffold  with  sufficient  courage. 

I  do  not  believe  that  we  are  yet  in  possession  of  all 
the  elements  necessary  to  enable  us  to  write  with 
fitting  simplicity  the  life  of  Marie  Antoinette ;  there 
exists  a  collection  of  her  manuscript  letters  to  her 
brother,  the  Emperor  Joseph,  and  to  the  Emperor 
Leopold,  and  among  the  State  papers  at  Vienna  there 
must  be  a  store  of  such  treasures.  But  I  venture  to 
predict,  that  when  these  confidential  communications 
see  the  light  of  day,  they  will  only  confirm  the  idea 
which  careful  reflection  and  attentive  reading  of  her 
Memoirs  can  give  us  now.  The  noble  mother  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  from  whom  she  inherited  her  eagle  nose 
and  her  queenly  bearing,  stamped  her  with  the  cachet 
of  her  race  ;  but  the  imperial  nature,  which  showed  itself 
only  at  critical  moments,  was  not  her  usual  disposition, 
nor  the  product  of  her  education,  nor  the  spirit  of  her 
dreams.  She  was  a  daughter  of  the  Caesars  only  in 
emergencies.  She  was  constituted  to  be  the  peaceful, 
pastoral  heiress  of  an  empire,  rather  than  to  reconquer 
for  herself  a  kingdom  ;  before  all,  beneath  her  august 
dignity,  she  was  constituted  to  be  a  kind  woman,  a 
constant,  faithful  friend,  a  tender,  devoted  mother.  She 
possessed  every  virtue,  every  grace,  and  some  of  the 
weaknesses  of  a  woman.  Adversity  drew  out  her 
virtues  ;  the  high  -  souled  dignity  of  her  character 
revealed  itself  with  more  striking  pathos  because  her 
natural  disposition  was  not  so  elevated  as,  through 
circumstances,  it  became.  Such  as  she  is,  the  victim  of 
the  most  hateful,  the  most  brutal  sacrifice,  an  example 
of  the  most  deplorable  vicissitudes,  it  needs  but  a  little 


1 68  MARIE  ANTOINETTE. 

survival  of  veneration  for  the  old  race,  to  excite  a  feeling 
of  sympathy  and  of  delicate  pity  in  the  breast  of  every 
one  who  reads  the  story  of  her  brilliant  years,  and  of 
her  later  anguish.  Every  man  whose  breast  contains 
a  spark  of  the  generosity  of  a  Barnave,  will  be  as  deeply 
impressed ;  and,  if  it  must  be  said,  will  be  as  com- 
pletely transformed,  as  he  was,  when  they  study 
closely  this  noble,  outraged  woman.  As  to  women, 
Mme.  de  Stael  long  ago  put  this  subject  before  them, 
in  the  way  best  calculated  to  touch  their  hearts,  when 
she  said  in  her  Defense  de  Marie  Antoinette,  "  I  appeal 
to  you  women,  who  are  each  and  all  of  you  sacrificed 
in  this  most  tender  mother,  sacrificed  by  this  outrage 
perpetrated  on  weakness ;  your  empire  ceases  when 
ferocity  triumphs." 

Marie  Antoinette  is  more  a  mother  than  a  queen. 
We  know  the  prompt  reply  she  made  when,  being  then 
Dauphiness,  and  as  yet  childless,  some  one  in  her 
presence  censured  a  woman  who,  to  obtain  the  pardon 
of  her  son,  compromised  in  a  duel,  appealed  to  Mine, 
du  Barry  herself :  "  In  her  place  I  would  have  done 
the  same  ;  and  if  that  had  failed,  I  would  have  thrown 
myself  at  Zamora's  feet "  (Mme.  Du  Barry's  little  negro) 
"to  save  my  son."  And  we  also  remember  the  last 
words  Marie  Antoinette  uttered,  before  that  atrocious 
tribunal,  when  questioned  on  shameful  imputations 
regarding  the  innocence  of  her  son,  her  sole  response 
was  the  exclamation,  "  I  appeal  to  every  mother  1 " 
This  last  cry  rises  above  all  her  life,  it  is  the  cry  which 
makes  us  yearn  over  her,  and  which  will  re-echo  through 
all  future  time. 

One  day,  at  the  Temple,  an  escape  was  planned,  and 
she  had  even  given  her  consent.  But  next  day  she 
wrote  that  she  was  unable  to  consent,  since  flight  would 
necessitate  separation  from  her  son.  "However  great 


MARIE  ANTOINETTE.  169 

the  happiness  it  would  be  to  me  to  be  far  from  here,  I 
could  not  consent  to  separate  from  him  ...  I  could 
find  pleasure  in  nothing  if  I  left  my  children,  and  I 
do  not  even  regret  that  I  cannot  go."  This,  some  one 
will  doubtless  say,  is  a  very  simple  sentiment;  and  it  is 
exactly  for  that  reason  that  it  is  beautiful. 


MADAME   DE    LA   FAYETTE. 

1836. 


IN  Mme.  de  SJevigne's  time,  living  near  her,  and  one 
of  her  dearest  friends,  was  a  woman  whose  history  is 
very  closely  blended  with  that  of  her  amiable  friend, 
— the  same  whom  Boileau  has  described  as  "  the  woman 
who  in  all  France  possessed  most  wit,  and  who  wrote  lest." 
This  woman  wrote  but  little,  however ;  in  her  leisure 
moments  only,  for  her  amusement,  and  with  a  degree  of 
careless  freedom  in  which  there  was  nothing  approach- 
ing style.  She  so  specially  disliked  letter-writing,  that 
only  a  very  few  very  short  letters  of  hers  remain 
now ;  it  is  through  Mme.  de  SeVigne's  letters  rather 
than  through  her  own  that  we  are  able  to  form  an 
opinion  of  her.  But  she  had  in  her  time  a  distinct 
influence, — grave,  delicate,  solid,  and  charming, — an 
influence  certainly  very  considerable,  and  in  its  way 
equal  to  the  best.  To  deep  tenderness  of  heart  and  a 
romantic  imagination  was  united  great  natural  accuracy, 
or,  to  quote  the  words  of  her  talented  friend,  a  divine 
raison  which  never  failed  her  ;  it  is  displayed  in  her 
writings  as  in  her  life,  and  serves  as  a  model  for  our 
consideration  in  this  century,  which  provides  us  with 
such  a  medley  of  good  models.  In  restoring  the  Hotel 
de  Rambouillet,  it  has  recently  been  attempted  to 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  171 

demonstrate  that  Mine,  de  Maintenon  was  its  accom- 
plished and  triumphant  inheritrix  :  an  expression  of 
Segrais  rather  decides  the  dispute  about  this  succession 
in  favour  of  Mine,  de  la  Fayette,  since  all  those  who 
were  called  precieux  had  disappeared.  After  a  rather 
lengthy  portrait  of  Mrne.  de  Rambouillet,  he  adds  at 
once  :  "  Mnie.  de  la  Fayette  learned  a  great  deal  from 
her,  but  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  possessed  the  most  intel- 
lectual mind,"  etc.  This  accomplished  disciple  of  Mine, 
de  Rambouillet,  the  constant,  unchanging  friend  of 
Mine,  de  Sevigne,  and  also  for  some  time  of  Mine,  de 
Maintenon,  has  her  assured  date  and  rank  in  our 
literature  ;  for  she  reformed  romance,  and,  through  that 
divine  raison  which  was  her  characteristic,  she  directed 
and  fixed  that  tender  style  which  had  been  excessive, 
but  which  it  only  required  her  to  handle  in  order  to 
raise  it  to  public  favour  in  comparison  with  the  taste 
for  gravity  which  had  apparently  abolished  it. 

In  that  subordinate  style  in  which  delicacy  and  a 
certain  degree  of  interest  are  sufficient,  although  genius 
(should  it  chance  to  be  encountered)  is  not  unappreci- 
ated ;  which  Vart  poe'tique  does  not  mention,  but  which 
Prevost,  Le  Sage,  and  Jean  Jacques  have  exalted 
(although  in  the  time  of  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  it  was 
confined,  at  least  in  her  highest  conceptions,  to  the 
sad  passages  of  Berenice  or  Iphige'nie), — in  that  style, 
I  repeat,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  has  done  precisely  that 
which  her  illustrious  contemporaries,  in  more  highly 
esteemed  and  graver  styles,  tried  to  accomplish.  L'Astre'e, 
in  implanting,  to  speak  accurately,  romance  in  France, 
was  soon  made  the  parent  of  an  endless  offspring, 
Cynis,  ClJopatre,  Polexandre,  and  GUlie.  Boileau  checked 
their  increase  by  his  sarcasms,  as  he  also  repressed  that 
progeny  of  epic  poems,  Mo'ise  sauve",  Saint  Louis,  and  La 
Pucelle.  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  without  seeming  to 


172  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE, 

ridicule,  and,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  supported  by,  or 
following  in  the  train  of  these  predecessors  whom 
Segrais  and  Huet  confounded  with  her  and  wrongfully 
included  in  the  same  cloud  of  praise,  gave  them  their 
most  successful  death-blow  in  the  Princesse  de  Cttves, 
and  what  she  did  accomplish  she  certainly  did  inten- 
tionally and  with  due  consideration.  She  was  wont  to 
say  that  one  sentence  left  out  in  a  work  was  worth  a 
louis  d'or,  and  one  word  twenty  sous  ';  this  saying  is 
most  valuable  from  her,  if  we  consider  the  romances 
in  ten  volumes  it  was  necessary  first  of  all  to  peruse. 
Proportion,  propriety,  and  moderation ;  simple,  in- 
spired methods  substituted  for  great  catastrophes  and 
grand  expressions,  these  are  the  distinct  signs  of  the 
reform,  or,  to  speak  less  ambitiously,  of  the  improve- 
ment she  effected  on  romance ;  she  is  a  worthy 
representative  of  pure  Louis  XIV.  century  in  this. 

The  long  unbroken  tie  which  existed  between  Mme. 
de  la  Fayette  and  M.  de  la  Eochefoucauld  made  her 
own  life  like  a  romance, — a  calm  romance,  yet  always  a 
romance,  though  not  so  regular  as  Lime,  de  Sevignd's,  for 
she  loved  only  her  daughter  ;  and  not  calculating  and 
scheming  like  Mme.  de  Maintenon's,  whose  sole  aim 
was  to  marry  the  king.  It  is  interesting  to  see  this 
tender  heart  uniting  with  bitter,  disenchanted  reason, 
which  it  soothes,  a  late  but  faithful  love  between  two 
earnest  souls,  the  more  sensible  correcting  the  misan- 
thropical tendencies  of  the  other,— a  delicate  sentiment, 
gentleness  and  mutual  comfort  rather  than  delusion  and 
the  fire  of  passion  ; — a  delicate  and  rather  saddened 
Mme.  de  Cleves,  in  short,  beside  a  M.  de  Nemours  grown 
old  and  the  author  of  Maximes:  just  such  a  life  was 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette's,  and  it  exactly  corresponds  with 
her  romance.  That  slight  illusiveness  which  we  observe 
in  her,  that  melancholy  raison  which  is  the  core  of 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  173 

her  life,  has  slightly  tinted  even  her  romantic  ideal, 
and  seems  to  me  to  permeate  all  other  romances 
emanating  in  any  way  from  her  influence,  and  which 
may  be  called  her  posterity,  such  as  Eugene  de 
Rothelin,  Mile,  de  Clerrnont,  and  Edouard.  However 
deep  the  tenderness  may  be  which  breathes  through 
these  beautiful  creations,  reason  is  there  also,  experience 
has  whispered  promptingly,  and  cooled  all  passion. 
Beside  the  loving,  yielding  heart  there  is  a  warning 
and  restraining  something.  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 
is  always  at  the  core. 

If  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  reformed  romance  in  France, 
chivalrous  and  sentimental  romance,  and  stamped  it 
with  that  peculiar  tone  which  up  to  a  certain  point 
reconciles  the  ideal  with  the  practical,  we  can  also  say 
that  she  gives  us  the  first  and  an  altogether  illustrious 
example  of  an  enduring  attachment  rendered  sacred 
and  legitimate  by  its  constancy*  through  days  and 
years  till  death.  Such  connections  belonged  to  the 
morals  of  the  old  society,  and  with  that  society  became 
extinct,  or  nearly  so  ;  but  they  could  never  have  existed 
till  after  that  society  was  established  and  fully  con- 
stituted, which  was  not  till  about  this  time.  La 
Princesse  de  Clhes,  and  her  attachment  to  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld,  are  the  two  nearly  equal  titles  Mme. 
de  la  Fayette  possesses  to  pathetic  or  serious  celebrity  ; 
they  are  two  points  which  form  landmarks  in  the 
literature  and  society  of  Louis  XIV. 

I  would,  however,  have  left  the  pleasure  and  the 
fancy  of  rebuilding  that  life,  so  simple  in  events,  to  the 
readers  of  Mine,  de  Sevigne,  if  a  little  unpublished  but 
very  intimate  document  had  not  enticed  me  to  make 
a  framework  for  the  picture. 

*  Exemplum  cana  simus  uterque  coma,  the  old  Latin  poet 
has  said. 


174  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

The  father  of  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  a  major-general 
and  governor  of  Havre,  was,  it  is. said,  a  good  man,  and 
carefully  directed  his  daughter's  education.  Her  mother 
(nde  de  Pena)  was  from  Provence,  and  counted  a  trouba- 
dour poet  among  her  ancestors.  Mile.  Marie-Madeleine 
Pioche  de  la  Vergne  had  at  an  early  age  read  and 
studied  more  than  most  of  even  the  cleverest  women 
of  the  preceding  generation  had  read  in.  their  youth. 
Mme.  de  Choisy,  for  example,  had  extraordinary  natural 
talent  in  conversation  or  in  letter-writing,  but  could 
not  even  spell.  Mme.  de  Sevigne  and  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette,  younger  by  six  or  seven  years  than  her  friend, 
possessed,  in  addition  to  her  excellent  grounding,  a 
perfectly  cultured  mind.  Our  direct  proof  as  regards 
this  education  is  furnished  by  the  raptures  of  Menage, 
who,  as  we  know,  generally  fell  in  love  with  his  beau- 
tiful pupils :  he  commemorates,  under  every  form  of 
Latin  verse,  the  beauty,  grace,  and  elegance  with 
which  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  or  Mile,  de  la  Vergne  spoke 
and  wrote.  At  a  later  period  he  introduced  to  her  his 
friend,  the  learned  Huet,  who  also  became  one  of  her 
literary  advisers.  Segrais,  who  shares  with  Mme.  de 
Sevigne"  the  honour  of  making  Mme.  de  la  Fayette 
known,  tells  us :  "  Three  months  after  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  began  to  learn  Latin,  she  knew  more  of  that 
language  than  M.  Menage  or  Pere  Rapih,  her  tutors. 
In  expounding  it  to  her,  they  had  a  dispute  concerning 
the  meaning  of  a  passage,  and  when  neither  would 
agree  to  the  rendering  of  his  friend,  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  said  to  them,  'You  do  not  either  of  you 
understand  at  all ; '  and,  in  fact,  she  gave  them  the 
proper  meaning  of  the  passage  :  they  were  at  once 
satisfied  that  she  was  right.  It  was  one  of  the  poets 
she  expounded,  for  she  was  not  fond  of  prose,  and  had 
not  read  Cicero,  but,  having  a  great  love  for  poetry,  she 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  175 

chiefly  read  Virgil  and  Horace  ;  therefore,  having  the 
poetic  spirit,  and  understanding  the  exigencies  of  the 
art,  she  had  little  trouble  in  penetrating  the  meaning 
of  these  authors."  Further  on  he  alludes  to  the  merits 
of  M.  Menage :  "  Where  shall  we  find  poets  like  M. 
Menage,  who  wrote  good  Latin,  Greek,  and  Italian 
poetry  1  He  was  an  eminent  man,  let  those  who  were 
envious  of  him  say  what  they  like  :  he  did  not,  how- 
ever, understand  all  the  delicate  shades  of  meaning 
in  poetry  ;  but  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  understood  them 
well."  This  woman,  who  so  highly  esteemed  and  so 
thoroughly  understood  the  poets,  was  also  so  pre- 
eminently true,  that  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  later  on, 
told,  her  so,  employing  for  the  first  time  that  expression 
vraie,  which  is  still  used  :  a  poetic  mind,  a  true  mind, 
her  distinction,  like  her  charm,  lies  in  this  union. 
At  the  same  time,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  most  careful 
(Segrais  is  again  our  informant  as  to  this)  not  to  allow 
anything  of  her  knowledge  of  Latin  to  be  apparent,  so 
that  other  women  might  not  be  offended.  Menage 
tells  vis  that  she  one  day  replied  to  M.  Huyghens,  who 
asked  her  what  an  iambus  was,  that  it  was  the  opposite 
of  a  trochee  ;  but  it  is  very  certain  that  it  required  M. 
Huyghens  and  his  question  to  induce  her  to  speak  at 
all  on  such  a  subject  as  an  iambus  or  a  trochee.* 

She  lost  her  father  when   she  was  fifteen.      Her 

*  Tallemant  des  Reaux,  the  common  reporter  of  mischievous 
speeches,  attributes  one  of  them  to  Mile,  de  la  Vergne  on  the 
subject  of  Menage,  her  master:  "This  most  officious  Menage 
is  coming  presently."  He  repeats  the  story  to  the  end  for  the 
sake  of  showing  that  the  pedantic  gallant  was  not  the  first 
thought  of  all  his  fair  pupils.  There  is  no  need  of  this  testi- 
mony to  prove  to  us  that  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  not  blind 
to  the  defects  of  the  poor  Menage ;  I  even  suspect  that  she 
thought  of  him  and  his  platitudes  when  she  remarked  that 
"  it  was  rare  to  find  probity  among  learned  men." 


176  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

mother,  Eetz  tells  us,  was  a  good  woman,  but  rather 
vain,  eager,  and  bustling.  She  married  again,  very 
soon,  the  Chevalier  Renaud  de  Sevigne",  so  much  mixed 
up  with  the  intrigues  of  the  Fronde,  and  who  displayed 
such  zealous  activity  in  aiding  the  escape  of  the 
Cardinal  from  the  Chateau  of  Nantes. 

In  the  Memoirs  of  the  Cardinal,  we  read,  apropos  of 
this  prison  of  Nantes  (1653),  and  of  the  entertaining  visits 
he  received  there  :  "  Mme.  de  la  Vergne,  whose  second 
husband  was  M.  le  Chevalier  de  Se'vigne',  and  who  lived 
in  Anjou  with  her  husband,  came  to  see  me  there,  and 
brought  with  her  her  daughter,  Mile,  de  la  Vergne,  who 
is  now  Mme.  de  la  Fayette.  She  was  very  pretty  and 
very  amiable  ;  and,  moreover,  had  a  great  resemblance 
to  Mine,  de  Lesdiguieres.  She  pleased  me  very  much  ; 
but,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  please  her  at  all,  either 
because  she  simply  did  not  like  me,  or  it  might  have 
been  that  her  mother  and  step-father,  before  leaving 
Paris,  had  imbued  her  with  a  distrust  of  me,  by  telling 
her  of  my  fickleness  and  inconstancy,  ami  so  had  pre- 
judiced her  against  me.  I  consoled  myself  for  her 
cruelty  with  that  facility  which  was  so  natural  to  me." 
Mile,  de  la  Vergne,  at  twenty,  had  need  of  nothing  but 
her  own  good  sense  to  teach  her  to  pay  no  attention 
to  the  adventurous  prisoner  and  his  idle,  quickly-over- 
come caprice. 

Married  in  1655  to  the  Comte  de  la  Fayette,  pro- 
bably the  most  remarkable  and  also  the  most  romantic 
tiling  about  her  marriage  was  that  she  thus  became  the 
sister-in-law  of  La  Mere  Angelique  de  la  Fayette,  the 
superior  of  the  Convent  of  Chaillot,  and  formerly  maid 
of  honour  to  Anne  of  Austria,  and  whose  platonic  love 
for  Louis  XIII.  forms  a  simple  chaste  romance,  very 
much  like  those  represented  in  Mme.  de  Cleves.  Her 
husband  having  bestowed  upon  her  the  name  she  was 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  177 

destined  to  render  famous,  and  on  which  a  tender  halo 
already  hung,  disappears  from  her  life,  is  blotted  out, 
BO  to  speak  ;  nothing  more  is  heard  of  him  worthy  of 
remark.*  She  bore  her  husband  two  sons,  of  whom 
she  was  very  fond, — one  a  soldier,  whose  establishment 
in  his  profession  caused  her  much  anxiety,  and  who 
died  a  short  time  after  her  ;  and  the  other,  the  Abbe" 
de  la  Fayette,  who  held  many  good  livings,  and  of 
whom  the  chief  thing  we  know  is,  that  he  carelessly 
lent  his  mother's  manuscripts  to  some  one,  and  lost 
them. 

When  very  young,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  intro- 
duced to  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  where  she  learned  a 
great  deal  from  the  Marquise.  M.  Ecederer,  in  order  to 
make  sure  that  Moliere's  witticisms  should  not  affect 
the  Hotel  de  Kambouillet,  makes  out  that  that  distin- 
guished salon  had  dispersed  rather  earlier  than  is  quite 
correct.  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  had  been  there  even 
before  her  marriage,  much  to  her  advantage  ;  and  also 
Mme.  de  Sevignd.  M.  Auger,  in  the  article  he  has 
written  on  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  which,  although  other- 
wise exact  and  interesting,  is  dry  and  stiff,  says  in 
regard  to  this :  "  Received  when  very  young  in  the 
salon  of  the  Hotel  de  Kambouillet,  her  naturally  correct 
and  sound  judgment  might  not  perhaps  have  resisted 
the  contagion  of  the  bad  taste  of  which  that  Hotel  was 
the  centre,  if  the  study  of  the  Latin  poets  had  not  acted 
as  an  antidote,"  etc.  The  antidote  had  surely  acted  on 
Manage  first.  All  this  is  most  unjust  towards  the 
Hotel  de  Rambouillet,  and  M.  Rcederer  is  quite  justified 
in  guarding  against  such  criticisms ;  but  he  himself 

*  "There  is  a  certain  lady  who  seems  to  have  buried  her 
husband,  or  at  least  extinguished  him,  for  there  is  never  any 
mention  made  of  him  in  society ;  no  one  knows  if  he  is  alive 
or  dead."— LA  BRXJYERE.  ^ 

M 


178  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

certainly  labours  under  some  misunderstanding  if  he 
makes  that  Hotel  the  cradle  of  good  taste,  and  yet  tells 
us  that  Mile,  de  Scudery  was  tolerated  there  instead 
of  being  enthusiastically  admired.  He  forgets  that 
Voiture,  for  as  long  as  he  lived,  engrossed  attention 
there  ;  now  we  know  what  in  regard  to  wit  Voiture 
was,  but  we  also  know  what  he  was  in  regard  to  taste. 
As  for  Mile,  de  Scudery,  we  have  only  to  read  Segrais, 
Huet,  and  others,  to  see  how  they  esteem  that  incom- 
parable young  authoress  and  her  illustrious  Bassa  and 
the  Grand  Cyrus,  and  her  poetry,  so  tender  and  so  natural, 
which  Despreaux  so  maliciously  attacked  and  yet  was 
unable  to  rival ;  and  surely  that  which  Segrais  and 
Huet  both  equally  admired  ought  not  to  be  more 
severely  criticised  by  a  circle  of  which  they  were  the 
oracles.  Mine,  de  la  Fayette,  with  her  sound  sense 
and  keen  understanding,  gleaned,  like  Mme.  de  Sevigne, 
the  best  from  intellectual  intercourse.  Her  youth 
brought  her  into  close  connection  with  the  young  court 
circle,  and  even  had  her  mind  been  less  sensible,  she 
could  not  have  failed  to  acquire  a  correct  and  courtly 
elegance.  Since  the  beginning  of  her  married  life,  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  see  frequently  at  the  Convent 
of  Chaillot,  the  young  princess  of  England,  with  Queen 
Henrietta,  who,  during  her  exile,  had  retired  there. 
When  the  young  princess  became  Madame,  and  the 
brightest  ornament  of  the  court,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette, 
although  ten  years  her  senior,  kept  up  her  old  intimacy 
with  her,  had  constant  private  intercourse  with  her, 
and  was  considered  her  favourite.  In  the  charming 
account  she  has  written  of  some  of  the  brilliant  years 
of  this  princess's  life,  speaking  of  herself  in  the  third 
person,  she  thus  criticises  herself :  "  Mile,  de  la  Tre- 
mouille  and  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  were  of  this  number 
(the  number  of  persons  who  saw  Madame  frequently).  The 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  179 

first-named  was  agreeable  to  Madame  on  account  of  her 
goodness,  and  a  certain  ingenuous  habit  she  had  of  telling 
her  inmost  thoughts,  which  took  one  back  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  an  earlier  age  ;  the  other  pleased  her  by  some 
good  fortune  ;  for,  although  she  possessed  some  merit, 
it  was  of  such  a  serious  kind  that  it  seemed  unlikely 
to  be  pleasing  to  a  princess  as  young  as  Madame"  Thus, 
when  she  was  about  thirty  years  of  age,  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  found  herself  in  the  very  centre  of  that  fashion 
and  gaiety  which  reigned  during  the  most  flourishing 
years  of  Louis  XIV.'s  time  ;  she  was  a  guest  at  all 
Madame's  entertainments  at  Fontainebleau  .or  at  St. 
Cloud,  but  a  spectator  rather  than  one  who  took  an 
active  part,  as  she  herself  truthfully  tells  us  when 
relating  certain  things,  although  after  the  things  had 
happened  and  began  to  be  talked  about,  the  princess 
told  her  about  them  and  made  her  write  them  down. 
"  You  write  well,"  Madame  said  to  her  ;  "  write,  and  I 
shall  furnish  you  with  some  amusing  memoirs."  "This 
was  a  difficult  enough  task,"  confesses  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette,  "  for  in  certain  places  I  had  to  disguise  the 
truth  in  such  a  way  that  it  would  still  be  recognisable, 
and  yet  not  offend  or  displease  the  princess."  One  of  the 
passages  which  required  all  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  most 
delicate  tact,  and  which  provoked  the  amused  wit  of 
Madame  at  the  trouble  the  amiable  scribe  gave  herself, 
must,  I  should  imagine,  have  been  this :  "  She  (Madame) 
is  intimate  with  the  Couitesse  de  Soissons,  .  .  .  and 
now  only  thinks  of  pleasing  the  King  as  his  sister-in- 
law.  I  am  sure  she  pleases  him  in  quite  another  way, 
and  I  am  sure  also  that  she  thinks  he  only  pleases  her 
as  a  brother-in-law,  although  he  probably  pleases  her 
more ;  but,  to  sum  up,  as  they  are  both  innniu-ly 
agreeable,  and  are  both  endowed  by  nature  with 
amorous  dispositions,  and  as  they  see  each  other  every 


1 80  MA  DA  ME  DE  LA  FA  YE  TTE. 

day  in  a  world  of  pleasure  and  amusement,  it 
appears  to  all  the  world  that  they  entertain  for 
each  other  that  liking  which  usually  precedes  a  grande 
passion." 

Madame  died  in  Mine,  de  la  Fayette's  arms,  who,  at 
the  last,  never  left  her  bedside  for  a  moment.  The 
story  she  tells  of  that  death  equals  the  most  beautiful 
account  we  ever  read  of  the  most  pathetic  death  ;  it 
runs  in  the  following  simple  words,  which  illuminate 
the  scene :  "  I  went  up  to  her  room.  She  told  me 
she  was  fretful,  and  the  peevishness  with  which  she 
spoke  would  have  sounded  beautifully  amiable  from 
another  woman,  so  much  natural  sweetness  did  she 
possess,  and  so  little  was  she  capable  of  petulant 
temper.  .  .  .  After  dinner,  she  lay  clown  on  the  floor, 
and  made  me  sit  beside  her  in  such  a  way  that  her 
head  half  rested  on  me.  During  her  sleep  she  changed 
so  much,  that,  after  looking  at  her  a  long  time,  I  began 
to  be  surprised,  and  I  thought  how  greatly  expression 
beautified  her  face.  ...  I  was  wrong,  however,  to 
make  such  a  reflection,  for  I  had  often  seen  her  asleep, 
yet  never  less  lovely."  And  again  :  "  Monsieur  was  by 
her  bedside ;  she  kissed  him,  saying  sweetly,  and  in 
a  tone  which  might  have  melted  the  hardest  heart, 
'  Alas !  Sir,  you  left  off  loving  me  a  long  time  ago  ; 
but  this  was  unjust :  I  never  failed  in  my  duty  to- 
wards you.'  Monsieur  appeared  to  be  deeply  moved, 
and  all  who  were  in  the  room  were  so  much  affected 
that  nothing  was  heard  but  the  sound  of  weeping.  .  .  . 
When  the  King  had  left  her  room,  I  was  by  her  bed- 
side ;  she  said  to  me,  '  Mine,  de  la  Fayette,  my  nose 
is  already  sunken.'  I  could  only  answer  by  my  tears  ; 
and  she  sank  very  fast."  On  the  30th  June  1673, 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette  wrote  to  Mme.  de  Sevigne  :  "  It 
is  three  years  to-day  since  I  saw  Madame  die  :  yester- 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYET'JE.  181 

da}",  I  read  over  many  of  her  letters ;  my  thoughts 
are  full  of  her." 

In  the  midst  of  this  gay  and  social  circle,  still  young, 
and  with  a  face  which,  if  not  beautiful,  was  pleasant 
and  aristocratic,  was  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  for  ten  years 
but  an  attentive  observer,  with  no  active  personal  in- 
terest other  than  her  attachment  to  Madame,  had  she  no 
peculiar  secret  preference  of  her  own  1  About  the  year 
1665,  as  I  suppose,  and  as  I  shall  explain  further  on, 
she  had  chosen  outside  this  whirl  of  gaiety  her  own 
peculiar  friend,  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  at  that  time 
fifty-two. 

She  began  to  write  early  from  a  natural  inclination, 
but  even  then  with  earnest  sense.  Portraits  were  then 
in  vogue.  About  1659,  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  wrote  one 
of  Mme.  de  Sevigne,  which  is  reputed  to  have  been  the 
work  of  an  unknown  author.  "  It  flatters  me,"  said  the 
latter,  on  finding  it  among  some  old  dusty  papers  of 
Mme.  de  la  Tremouille's  in  1675,  "but  those  who  loved 
me  sixteen  years  ago  would  have  found  some  resem- 
blance in  it."  It  is  these  youthful  features  which  her 
friend  has  fixed  for  all  time,  which  come  before  our 
mind's  eye  when  we  think  of  the  immortal  Mme.  de 
Sevigne.  When  Madame  persuaded  Mine,  de  la  Fayette 
to  write  for  her,  saying  to  her, "  You  writer-well"  she  had, 
no  doubt,  read  La  Princesse  de  Montpensier,  our  author's 
first  short  novel,  which  was  published  in  1660  or  1662.* 
In  elegance  and  vivacity  of  style  it  is  distinctly  superior 
to  the  other  novels  and  stories  of  the  time,  and  intro- 
duces a  spirit  of  justice  and  reform.  In  composition, 
Mine,  de  la  Fayette's  imagination  was  readily  carried 
back  to  the  brilliant  and  polished  epoch  of  the  Valois, 

*  Le  Dictionnaire  de  Moreri  says  1662,  and  Qu&rard  1660. 
But  it  is  quite  certain  that  the  first  edition  published  with  the 
King's  permission  was  in  1662,  and  without  any  author's  name. 


i82  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

to  the  reigns  of  Charles  IX.  or  Henri  II.,  which  she 
idealized  a  little,  or  embellished  after  the  manner  of 
those  graceful  and  tactfully  discreet  tales  in  which 
Queen  Marguerite  pourtrays  them  for  us.  La  Princesse 
de  Montpensier,  La  Princesse  de  Cleves,  La  Comtesse  de 
Tende,  are  all  within  those  reigns,  the  vices  and  the 
crimes  of  which  have  perhaps  too  vividly  eclipsed  in 
our  eyes  their  brilliant  intellectual  culture.  As  regards 
wit  or  intellect,  intrigue,  and  also  vice,  the  court  of 
Madame  was  not  without  its  resemblance  to  the  courts 
of  the  Valois,  and  the  history  of  it  which  Mine,  de 
la  Fayette  has  written,  recalls  more  than  once  the 
Memoires  of  the  queen,  so  charming  in  her  time,  but 
whom  we  must  not  therefore  always  believe.  The  per- 
fidious Vardes  and  the  proud  M.  de  Guiche  are  in  reality 
characters  who  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  the  court 
of  Henri  II. ;  and  in  that  court  of  Madame's,  a  Chevalier  ' 
de  Lorraine  was  not  wanting.  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  had 
an  influence  of  some  weight  in  this  society,  and  exercised 
a  wise  criticism  on  its  tone.  Two  months  before  the 
unfortunate  death  of  Madame,  Mme.  de  Montmorency 
wrote  to  M.  de  Bussy  by  way  of  jest  (1st  May  1670)  : 
"Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  Madame's  favourite,  has  broken 
her  head  against  the  cornice  of  the  chimney-piece,  which 
had  no  respect  for  a  head  brilliant  with  the  glory  lent 
to  it  by  the  favour  of  so  great  a  princess.  Before  this 
misfortune  a  letter  of  hers  appeared,  which  she  made 
public,  to  ridicule  what  are  called  fashionable  words, 
the  use  of  which  is  unnecessary  ;  I  send  it  to  you."  Then 
follows  the  letter,  which  is  entirely  composed  of  the 
nonsensical  jargon  used  in  the  fashionable  world,  and 
which  she  wished  to  correct.  The  letter  is  from  a  jealous 
lover  to  his  mistress.  Boileau  could  not  have  surpassed 
it  in  style.  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  although  a  degree 
softer,  was  the  Despreaux  (Boileau)  of  courtly  language. 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  183 

In  the  end  of  this  same  year,  1670,  Zayde  appeared. 
It  was  Mme.  <le  la  Fayette's  first  real  work,  for  La 
Princesse  de  Montpensier  was  not  a  serious  effort,  and 
had  not  been  noticed  at  the  time  except  by  a  very  few 
people.  Zayde  was  published  in  Segrais'  name,  and 
was  something  more  than  a  purely  transparent  fiction. 
The  public  readily  believed  that  Segrais  was  the  author. 
Bussy  received  the  book  as  the  work  of  Segrais,  and 
anticipated  much  pleasure  from  its  perusal  ;  "for 
Segrais,"  he  remarked,  "could  not  write  what  is  not 
good."  After  reading  it,  he  criticised  and  praised  it, 
still  in  the  same  belief.  Since  that  time  many  persons 
have  maintained  that  to  Segrais  the  honour  of  its  crea- 
tion belongs,  or  at  all  events  that  a  great  deal  of  it  was 
written  by  him.  Adry,  who  in  1807  published  an  edition 
of  La  Princesse  de  Cteves,  in  leaving  the  question  rather 
vague  and  doubtful,  seems  inclined  to  favour  the  idea 
that  it  was  the  production  of  the  talented  poet. 

But  the  worthy  Adry,  who  is  an  authority  as  a 
bibliographer,  has  a  rather  slavishly  literal  mind. 
Segrais,  however,  tells  us  quite  plainly,  it  seems  to 
me,  in  the  conversations  and  sayings  of  his  which  have 
been  collected  :  "  La  Princesse  de  Cleves  is  by  Mme.  de 
la  Fayette.  .  .  .  Zayde,  which  appeared  in  my  name,  is 
also  hers.  It  is  true  I  had  collaborated,  but  only  as 
regards  the  arrangement  of  the  romance,  in  which  the 
rules  of  art  are  observed  with  great  exactitude."  It  is, 
moreover,  true  that  at  another  time  Segrais  said :  "After 
my  Zayde  was  published,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  ordered 
one  copy  to  be  bound  with  white  paper  between  each 
page,  so  that  she  might  revise  and  correct  it,  particularly 
the  language  ;  but  she  found  nothing  in  it  to  correct, 
even  years  after,  and  I  do  not  suppose  any  one  could 
improve  it  even  at  this  date."  It  is  evident  that  Segrais, 
like  so  many  quite  honest  editors,  allowed  himself  to 


184  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

slip  into  the  phrase  my  Zayde,  yet  blushed  a  little  when 
others  spoke  of  it  as  his.  This  confusion  of  author  and 
editor  is  simple  and  natural  enough.  In  the  middle 
ages,  and  even  in  the  sixteenth  century,  a  Latin  phrase 
copied  or  quoted  was  as  much  a  matter  of  pride  to  an 
author  as  an  original  idea,  and  if  he  should  be  the  first 
to  call  attention  to  a  romance  or  a  romance  writer,  he 
is  even  more  touchy  on  the  subject :  such  foster-parents 
do  not  dislike  the  soft  impeachment,  and  only  half 
refute  it.  But  without  this,  through  constantly  hear- 
ing their  own  name  in  connection  with  the  praise  or 
criticism  of  the  work,  they  cling  all  the  more  closely 
to  their  adoption.  If  I  remember  rightly,  people  used 
so  constantly  to  identify  me  with  Ronsard,  that  I  had 
difficulty  in  keeping  from  saying  my  Eonsard.  One 
feels  nattered  also  to  have  been  the  first  to  patronise 
a  good  novel,  or  even  a  bad  one.  The  worthy  Adry, 
then,  far  from  having  any  malicious  intention,  adopts 
without  sufficient  proof  this  expression  of  Segrais,  my 
Zayde.  Huet  is  explicit  enough  on  the  subject  in  his 
Origines.de  Caen;  he  is  still  more  so  in  his  Latin 
Commentaire  on  himself.  "  Ill-informed  people,"  he 
says,  "  regard  it  as  an  insult  that  I  should  have  chosen 
to  speak  of  Segrais  as  I  did  in  Les  Origines  de  Caen ; 
but  I  can  certify  the  fact  on  the  testimony  of  my  own 
eyes  and  from  a  number  of  Mine,  de  la  Fayette's  own 
letters ;  for  she  sent  me  each  part  of  the  work  as  fast 
as  she  composed  it,  and  made  me  read  and  revise  it." 
Lastly,  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  often  said  to  Huet,  who  had 
bound  up  along  with  Zayde  his  treatise  on  the  Origins 
des  Romans :  "  Do  you  know  that  we  have  married  our 
children?" 

Certainly,  after  all,  the  style  of  Zayde  is  not  so  notably 
different  from  the  style  of  Segrais'  novels  but  that  at 
the  time  people  might  have  mistaken  them.  Zayde 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  185 

still  belongs  to  the  pure  old  romantic  style,  although 
it  is  a  gem  of  its  kind  ;  and  if  the  reform  has  already 
commenced  there,  it  is  solely  in  the  detail,  in  the  way 
the  story  is  told  rather  than  in  the  actual  conception 
itself.  Zayde,  to  some  extent,  may  be  said  to  hold  a 
middle  place  between  L'Astrde  and  the  romances  of  the 
Abbe  Prevost,  and  is  a  connecting  link  between  them. 
We  find  the  same  sudden  and  extraordinary  passions, 
unheard-of  resemblances,  prolonged  adventures  and 
mistakes,  resolutions  made  at  sight  of  a  portrait  or  a 
bracelet.  Unhappy  lovers  quit  the  court  and  all  its 
pleasures  for  dreary  deserts,  where,  however,  all  their 
wants  are  supplied  ;  they  pass  the  afternoons  in  woods, 
and  recite  their  miseries  to  the  rocks,  and  when  they  re- 
enter  their  homes  they  find  all  kinds  of  beautiful  pictures 
there.  By  chance  they  encounter  on  the  seashore  unfor- 
tunate princesses  lying  apparently  lifeless,  having  escaped 
shipwreck  in  magnificent  attire,  and  who  languidly  open 
their  eyes  only  to  fall  in  love  with  them.  Shipwrecks, 
deserts,  arrivals,  and  ecstasies ;  therefore,  still  the  old 
romance  of  Heliodore  or  of  Urfe,  the  romantic  Spanish 
style  of  Cervantes'  novels.  The  peculiarity  of  Mme.  de 
la  Fayette  is  her  extremely  delicate  analysis  ;  the  most 
tender  sentiments  are  unravelled  by  her  with  the  utmost 
subtlety.  The  jealousy  of  Alphonse,  which  appeared  so 
unlikely  to  her  contemporaries,  and  which  Segrais  tells 
us  was  taken  from  real  life,  and  rather  lessened  than 
exaggerated,  is  depicted  with  vivid  skill  both  in  the 
early  and  later  stages  of  his  trouble.  Here  the  excel- 
lence of  the  work  makes  itself  felt,  there  observation  is 
displayed.  A  fine  passage,  and  one  which  has  been 
qualified  as  admirable  by  D'Alembert,  is  where  the  two 
lovers,  who  had  been  separated  less  than  two  months 
before,  neither  knowing  the  other's  language,  meet 
again,  each  speaking  in  the  language  of  the  other, 


1 86  MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE. 

which  they  have  learned  in  the  interval :  then  suddenly 
they  stop  short,  blushing  as  at  a  mutual  confession. 
For  my  own  part,  I  prefer  some  sentimental  remarks 
like  this,  which  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  certainly  did  not 
write  without  some  secret  reference  to  her  own  feelings  : 
"Ah  !  Don  Garcia,  you  are  right :  there  are  no  passions 
except  those  which  seize  us  at  once,  take  us  by  surprise ; 
the  others  are  merely  intimacies  our  hearts  are  volun- 
tarily drawn  into.  True  attachments  draw  us  in  spite 
of  ourselves." 

Mme.  de  la  Fayette  did  not,  I  think,  understand 
these  passions  which  fight  to  overmaster  us  ;  she  gave 
her  heart  willingly,  impulsively.  When  her  heart's 
affections  became  fixed  on  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld, 
she  must  have  been,  as  I  have  said,  about  thirty-two  or 
thirty-three,  and  he  fifty-two.  She  had  doubtless  been 
acquainted  with  him  for  some  time,  but  it  is  of  their 
peculiar  connection  that  I  mean  to  speak.  We  shall 
see  by  the  following  letter,  now  published  for  the  first 
time,  and  which  is  one  of  the  most  confidential  letters 
we  could  desire,  that  about  the  time  the  Maximes  were 
published,  and  just  at  the  time  when  the  Comte  de 
Saint- Paul  first  began  to  go  into  society,  there  was  a 
rumour  of  this  connection  between  Mme.  de  la  Fayette 
and  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  as  of  an  intimacy  very 
recently  established.  Now,  the  publication  of  the 
Maximes  and  the  Comte  de  Saint- Paul's  appearance  in 
society,  allowing  him  to  have  been  sixteen  or  seventeen, 
exactly  coincide,  and  make  the  date  1665  or  1666. 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette  wrote  the  letter  to  Mme.  de  Sable' , 
an  old  friend  of  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld's,  and  one  whose 
influence  considerably  affected  the  composition  of  the 
Maximes,  and  who  had  been  for  some  time  a  devoted 
disciple  of  Port-Royal,  rather  through  fear  of  death  find- 
ing her  still  unreformed  than  from  any  sincere  feeling  of 


MADAME  DE  LA  f'AYETTE.  187 

conversion.  "  Monday  Evening,"  the  letter  is  dated.  "  I 
was  unable  to  reply  to  your  letter  yesterday  because 
I  had  company,  and  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  reply  to 
it  to-day  because  I  find  it  too  flattering.  I  am  ashamed 
of  the  praise  you  bestow  on  me,  but  on  the  other  hand 
I  like  you  to  have  a  good  opinion  of  me,  and  I  have  no 
wish  to  contradict  your  idea  of  me.  Therefore,  in 
replying  to  you,  I  shall  only  say  that  the  Comte  de 
Saint-Paul  has  just  gone,  and  that  we  have  spoken 
about  you  for  a  whole  hour,  and  yoxi  can  imagine  how 
I  would  speak  on  such  a  subject.  We  also  discussed 
a  man  whom  I  always  take  the  liberty  of  comparing 
with  you  in  intellectual  charm.  I  do  not  know  if  the 
comparison  offend  you,  but  if  it  should  offend  you 
from  another's  lips,  it  is  great  praise  from  mine,  if  all 
we  hear  be  true.  I  soon  saw  that  the  Comte  de  Saint- 
Paul  had  heard  these  things  which  are  said,  and  I  went 
into  the  matter  slightly  with  him.  But  I  am  afraid  he 
did  not  take  what  I  said  seriously.  I  beg  of  you,  the  first 
time  you  see  him,  to  speak  to  him  of  these  rumours.  This 
will  come  quite  naturally,  for  I  have  given  him  the 
Maxim.es,  and  he  will  tell  you  so,  no  doubt.  But  I 
implore  you  to  speak  to  him  of  them  most  certainly,  to 
give  him  the  idea  that  the  matter  is  nothing  but  a  joke. 
I  am  not  sufficiently  aware  of  your  own  opinion  to  be 
sure  that  you  will  say  the  right  thing ;  and  I  think  it 
might  be  best  to  begin  by  convincing  the  ambassador. 
I  must  trust  the  matter  to  your  skill,  however ;  it  is 
superior  to  ordinary  maxims ;  only  convince  him.  I 
have  a  horror  that  persons  of  his  age  should  imagine 
that  I  am  frivolous  or  a  coquette.  They  seem  to  think 
everybody  older  than  themselves  a  hundred,  and  are 
quite  astonished  they  should  still  be  considered  inter- 
esting ;  moreover,  he  would  more  readily  believe  what 
was  said  to  him  of  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  than  of 


1 88  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

another.  So  I  do  not  wish  him  to  think  anything 
about  it,  except  that  he  is  one  of  my  friends,  and  I  pray 
that  you  will  not  forget  to  drive  this  out  of  his  head  if 
it  is  in  it,  any  more  than  I  have  forgotten,  your  message. 
It  is  not  very  generous,  however,  to  remind  you  of  a 
service  when  asking  you  to  do  me  one."  In  a  postscript 
she  adds  :  "  I  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  I  found 
the  Comte  de  Saint- Paul  terribly  quick-witted." 

To  give  additional  interest  to  this  letter,  let  us  try  to 
realize  the  exact  situation  :  M.  de  Saint- Paul,  the  son 
of  Mme.  de  Longueville,  and  probably  also  of  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld,  coming  to  call  on  Mme.  de  la  Fayette, 
who  is  said  to  be  the  object  of  a  late  and  tender  passion, 
but  who  would  like  to  undeceive  him — or  to  deceive 
him,  rather.  The  terrible  quick-ioittedness  of  the  young 
man  went  straight,  I  expect,  to  Mme.  de  Longueville's 
heart ;  no  doubt,  she  was  soon  shown  the  postscript,  if 
not  the  whole  of  the  letter.  The  most  charming  part 
of  the  letter,  and  which  all  elderly  lovers  ought  to 
inwardly  digest,  "  I  have  a  horror  of  persons  of  his  age 
thinking  me  capable  of  coquetry,"  exactly  responds  to 
this  passage  in  the  Princesse  de  Cleves :  "  Mme.  de  Cleves, 
who  was  at  the  age  at  which  it  is  impossible  to  believe 
that  a  woman  who  is  over  twenty-five  can  be  loved, 
regarded  with  extreme  surprise  the  king's  attachment 
to  this  duchess  (de  Valentinois)."  The  idea  was  Mme. 
de  la  Fayette's  own,  we  see.  She  specially  dreaded 
appearing  either  to  inspire  or  to  feel  love  at  an  age 
when  others  seek  it.  Her  delicate  sense  became  her 
last  effort  of  modesty. 

I  am  more  firm  in  my  conviction  that  the  peculiar 
and  well-known  liaison  between  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 
and  her  only  began  about  this  time,  because  it  seems 
to  me  so  apparent  that  this  affectionate  friend's  influence 
over  him  was  expressly  contrary  to  the  Maximes;  that 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  189 

had  she  been  near  him  before  they  were  written,  as 
she  was  afterwards,  she  would  have  made  him  correct 
and  simplify  them  ;  and  that  La  Rochefoucauld,  the 
misanthrope,  he  who  said  he  had  never  found  love 
except  in  romances,  and  that  for  his  own  part  he  had 
never  experienced  it,  is  not  the  same  man  almost,  of 
whom  she  said  at  a  later  period,  "M.  de  la  Roche- 
foucauld has  taught  me  wisdom,  but  t  have  reformed 
his  heart." 

In  a  short  (unpublished)  note  from  her  to  Mme.  de 
Sable,  who  had  herself  composed  Maximes,  I  read  :  "  It 
will  disappoint  me  more  than  I  can  express  if  you  do 
not  show  me  your  Maximes.  Mme.  du  Plessis  has 
inspired  me  with  an  extraordinary  desire  to  see  them, 
and  it  is  simply  because  they  are  honest  and  sensible 
that  I  have  this  desire,  and  because  they  will  convince 
me  that  all  sensible  persons  are  not  so  certain  about 
universal  depravity  as  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  is."  It 
is  this  idea  of  universal  depravity  which  she  sets  herself 
to  overcome  in  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  and  which  she 
reforms.  The  wish  to  soften  and  brighten  this  noble 
mind  was  doubtless  a  kind-hearted  and  reasonable 
excuse  for  her  at  the  beginning  of  their  close  intimacy. 

The  old  chevalier  of  the  Fronde,  grown  bitter  and 
gouty,  was,  besides,  not  exactly  the  kind  of  man  his 
book  alone  would  lead  us  to  suppose  he  was.  He  had 
studied  little,  Segrais  tells  us,  but  his  marvellous  sense 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  world  supplied  the  place  of 
studious  learning.  In  his  youth  he  had  plunged  into 
all  the  vices  of  his  time,  and  withdrew  with  a  mind 
more  healthy  than  his  body,  if  we  can  call  such  a 
cynical  mind  healthy.  His  cynicism  in  no  way  de- 
tracted from  the  fascinating  charm  of  his  society.  He 
was  courtesy  personified  always,  and  improved  on  close 
acquaintance.  Delightful  in  close  and  intimate  con- 


igo  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

versation,  his  low-toned  voice  just  suited  him.  If  he 
had  been  obliged  to  solemnly  address  five  or  six 
persons,  his  voice  would  have  lacked  strength  ;  and  the 
customary  oration  at  the  Academy  Frangaise  deterred 
him  from  seeking  admission  there.  In  June  1672, 
when  in  one  evening  the  death  of  Mine,  de  Longueville, 
that  of  the  Chevalier  de  Marsallac,  his  grandson,  and 
the  wound  of  his  son,  the  Prince  de  Marsallac, — when 
his  hailstorm  of  misfortune  fell  upon  him, — Mme.  de 
Sevigne  tells  us,  his  grief  and  his  self-control  were  admir- 
able. "  I  saw  his  heart  bared,"  she  adds,  "in  that  cruel 
time  ;  I  never  have  beheld  such  courage,  goodness, 
tenderness,  and  sense."  A  short  time  later,  she  said 
of  him  that  his  nature  was  domesticated,  and  that  he 
understood  almost  as  well  as  she  did,  maternal  love. 
This  is  the  real  De  la  Rochefoucauld,  such  as  he  became 
under  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  reforming  influence. 

From  1666  to  1670,  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  (who  was  not 
so  delicate  as  she  afterwards  became),  through  the  favour 
in  which  Madame  held  her,  had  occasion  and  oppor- 
tunity of  going  very  frequently  to  court :  it  was  not 
till  just  after  the  death  of  Madame,  and  also  about  the 
time  her  health  began  to  fail,  that  the  liaison,  as  Mine, 
de  Sevigne  points  out,  became  an  established  fact.  The 
letters  of  the  incomparable  friend,  which  are  written  with 
uninterrupted  regularity  from  this  very  time,  give  us 
insight  into  the  most  trifling  circumstances,  and  even 
allow  us  to  enter  into  the  pleasant  monotony  of  that 
deeply  tender  companionship.-  "  Their  delicate  health," 
she  writes,  "  makes  them  necessary  to  each  other,  and 
.  .  .  gives  them  leisure  to  enjoy  each  other's  good 
qualities,  to  a  degree  which  is  unusual  in  such  circum- 
stances. ...  At  court  there  is  no  leisure  time  for 
loving  :  that  vortex,  so  violent  for  others,  was  tranquil 
to  them,  and  left  plenty  of  time  for  their  delightful 


MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE.  191 

intercourse.  My  opinion  is,  that  no  passion  could 
be  stronger  than  such  a  bond."  I  do  not  quote  all  it 
would  be  possible  to  extract  from  each  letter  of  Mme. 
de  Sevigne's  in  the  same  strain  ;  for  there  are  very  few 
in  which  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  is  not  mentioned,  and 
several  of  them  are  written  from  her  house  with 
messages  enclosed  from  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  himself. 
On  good  days,  days  of  tolerable  health  and  of  dinners 
en  bavardinage,  as  she  expresses  it,  there  is  a  charming 
playfulness,  trills  of  amusing  scandal  on  the  eccen- 
tricities of  Mme.  de  Marans,  the  domestic  arrangements 
of  Mme.  de  Brissac  and  M.  le  Due.  Then  there  are 
quieter  but  not  less  delightful  days,  when  at  Saint- 
Maur,  in  the  house  which  M.  le  Prince  had  lent  to 
Gourville,  and  of  which  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  had  free 
use,  they  listened  in  a  select  company  to  the  poetry  of 
Despreaux,  which  was  considered  a  chef-d'oeuvre.  On 
another  day,  despising  Despreaux  and  his  poetry,  they 
went  to  hear  Lulli,  and  would  shed  tears  at  certain 
passages  in  the  opera  of  Cadmiis.  "  I  was  not  the  only 
one  who  could  not  listen  unmoved,"  said  Mme.  de 
Sevigne  ;  "  the  soul  of  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  also 
deeply  troubled."  Is  not  that  troubled  soul  tenderness 
itself!  Oh,  Zayde,  Zayde!  we  perceive  in  the  trouble 
of  your  heart  that  tender  romance  which  is  but  half 
satisfied,  and  which  will  not  bear  to  be  too  deeply 
stirred.  There  are  also  days  on  which  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  still  goes  to  court,  not  formally,  but  to  pay  a 
little  visit,  and  the  king  makes  her  sit  in  his  barouche 
with  the  ladies-in-waiting,  and  points  out  to  her  all  the 
beauties  of  Versailles,  as  any  private  gentleman  might 
do  ;  and  such  visits,  and  such  attentions,  wise  and 
modest  as  she  is,  furnish  on  her  return  food  for  long 
conversations,  and  even  for  letters  not  quite  so  short  as 
usual  from  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  who  is  not  fond  of  letter- 


192  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

writing  ;  and  Mme.  de  Grignan,  far  away,  is  rather 
jealous,  and  becomes  still  more  so  about  some  little 
writing-table  made  of  wood  from  Saint-Lucie,  which 
Mme.  de  Montespan  had  presented  to  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette ;  *  but  Mme.  de  Sevigne  puts  this  all  right 
again  by  the  compliments  she  is  continually  exchanging 
between  her  daughter  and  her  best  friend.  Even  when 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette  no  longer  went  to  Versailles,  no 
longer  with  tears  of  gratitude  embraced  the  king's 
knees,  even  when  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  was  dead, 
she  preserved  her  respect  and  consideration.  Mme.  de 
SeVigne  tells  us  that  "  no  woman  ever  managed  her 
affairs  so  well  without  loss  of  dignity/'  Louis  XIV. 
always  liked  her  because  she  had  been  Madames 
favourite  ;  he  always  remembered  that  she  was  a  witness 
of  that  sad  death,  and  also  of  those  happy  years  with 
which  she  would  for  ever  be  associated,  for  she  had 
seldom  appeared  at  court  since. 

But  Versailles,  and  La  poetique  of  Despreaux,t  and 
the  opera  of  Lulli,  and  all  the  fun  over  Mme.  de  Marans, 
are  constantly  interrupted  by  that  miserable  health, 
which,  with  its  accompanying  low  fever,  could  not  be 

*  We  gather  from  Mme.  de  Sevigne's  letters  that  Mme.  de 
Grignan  must  frequently  have  said,  "  As  for  your  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette,  does  she  love  you  so  marvellously  well  ?  She  scarcely 
•writes  two  lines  to  you  in  ten  years  ;  she  knows  how  to  do  what 
suits  her  best ;  she  takes  things  easily  ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  her 
indolence,  she  has  an  eye  to  her  own  interests."  Gourville,  with 
whom  unfortunately  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  for  a  long  time 
very  frank  and  unreserved  as  with  a  faithful  friend,  has  written 
something  of  the  same  kind  about  her,  or  more  malicious  still. 
Lassay,  in  some  Memoires  he  has  published,  also  insinuates 
against  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  that  she  looked  after  her  own 
interests,  and  knew  how  to  take  advantage  ;  but  one  must  hear 
both  sides  before  making  up  one's  mind. 

f  Boileau.— TR, 


MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE.  193 

ignored,  and  gradually  became  her  chief  concern.  In 
her  large  and  beautiful  garden  in  La  Rue  de  Vaugirard, 
so  green  and  perfumed  ;  in  Gourville's  house  at  Saint- 
Maur,  where  she  was  quite  at  home  ;  at  Fleury-sous- 
Meudon,  where  she  went  to  breathe  the  woodland  air, 
we  follow  her,  ill  and  sad  ;  we  see  that  long,  melancholy 
face  getting  thin  and  pinched.  Her  life  for  twenty 
years  is  but  a  slowly  consuming  fever,  and  the  bulletins 
always  come  to  this  :  "  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  leaves  to- 
morrow for  a  small  house  opposite  Meudon,  where  she 
has  been  before.  She  will  spend  a  fortnight  there, 
lingering  as  it  were  between  heaven  and  earth  ;  with  no 
desire  to  think  or  speak,  or  to  listen  or  reply  ;  it  tires 
her  to  say  good-morning  or  good-evening ;  she  is  so 
feverish  every  day  that  repose  is  the  only  remedy,  there- 
fore she  must  have  repose.  I  shall  go  and  see  her  some- 
times. M.  de  la  Kochefoucauld  is  resting  on  that  couch 
which  you  remember  ;  he  is  miserably  depressed,  and 
it  is  easy  to  see  what  is  the  cause."  The  cause  was 
certainly  a  worse  misfortune  than  gout  or  any  of  his 
ordinary  troubles, — it  was  the  absence  of  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette. 

The  melancholy  depression  which  such  a  condition 
naturally  induced  did  not  prevent  the  charm  and  the 
smile  reappearing  at  short  intervals.  In  the  nick- 
names then  in  vogue,  which  made  of  Mme.  Scarron 
The  Thaw,  of  Colbert  The  North,  of  M.  de  Pomponne 
Rain,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  called  The  Mist :  the 
mist  cleared  off  at  times,  and  then  the  most  charming 
horizons  appeared.  A  sweet,  resigned,  and  melancholy 
nature,  interesting  and  engaging ;  a  composed  voice, 
sowing  good  and  impressive  words,  formed  the  constant 
attraction  of  her  conversation  and  ideas.  "  It  is  sufficient 
to  love"  she  would  say,  accepting  her  condition  of 
inactivity.  This  expression,  which  exactly  describes 
N 


194  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

her,  is  worthy  of  her  who  also  said,  d  propos  of 
Montaigne,  that  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  have  a 
neighbour  like  him. 

At  times  this  calmness  would  suddenly  be  moved  to 
tears,  like  a  spring  gushing  forth  from  smooth  ground  ; 
stirred  to  the  depths  of  her  sensitive  nature,  as  we 
have  seen  her  moved  by  the  power  of  music.  When 
Mme.  de  Sevigne"  was  going  to  the  Kochers  or  to 
Provence,  and  went  to  say  good-bye,  one  might  have 
supposed  that  visit  was  to  be  her  last :  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette's  tender  heart  could  not  bear  unmoved  the 
departure  of  such  a  friend.  One  day,  M.  le  Due 
being  present,  some  one  spoke  of  the  campaign  which 
was  to  begin  in  six  months  ;  the  sudden  realization 
of  the  dangers  M.  le  Due  would  be  exposed  to  at  once 
drew  forth  tears.  This  emotion  was  both  flattering  and 
charming,  we  may  imagine,  in  one  usually  so  calm  and 
sensible. 

In  the  midst  of  all  her  weakness,  she  did  not  neglect 
essential  matters;  unable  to  move,  she  yet  attended  to 
everything.  If  she  reformed  the  heart  of  M.  de  la 
Eochefoucauld,  she  also  rectified  his  affairs.  She  got 
his  lawsuit  satisfactorily  arranged,  and  prevented  him 
losing  the  best  of  his  estates  by  providing  him  with 
the  means  of  proving  that  they  were  entailed.  Still,  it 
is  understood,  she  wrote  few  letters,  and  only  necessary 
ones.  This  was  her  only  ground  of  dispute  with  Mme. 
tie  SeVigne".  Of  the  few  letters  of  hers  which  remain, 
nearly  all  are  to  say  that  she  merely  writes  two  lines, 
that  she  would  write  more  had  she  not  a  headache ; 
and  one  day,  M.  de  la  Fayette,  who  conveniently  and 
unexpectedly  arrives  from  I  know  not  where,  is  turned 
into  an  excuse.  We  have  but  to  read  the  charming 
letter,  "  Well !  well !  my  dear,  what  is  the  matter  that  you 
scream  like  an  eagle?"  etc.,  to  thoroughly  apprehend  the 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  195 

measure  of  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  life,  and  to  understand 
the  difference  between  her  style  and  Mme.  de  Sevigne''s. 
In  that  letter  we  read  the  words,  so  often  quoted  :  "  You 
are  in  Provence,  my  dear ;  your  hours  are  free,  and  your 
head  more  so  ;  you  like  to  write  to  everybody,  my  taste 
for  writing  to  everybody  is  gone,  and  if  I  had  a  lover 
who  required  a  letter  from  me  every  morning,  I  would 
break  with  him." 

Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was  very  sincere  and  very  frank  ; 
one  was  impelled  to  trust  her  word.*  She  would  pay  no 
honour  or  respect  unless  where  she  was  satisfied  it  wag 
due ;  and  on  this  account  she  has  been  called  severe, 
whilst  she  was  but  discriminating.t  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 
with  whom  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  had  much  in  common, 
possessed  also  a  very  just  mind,  but  her  nature  was  not 
so  frank  ;  judicious  also,  but  less  sincere  ;  and  these 
dissimilarities,  no  doubt,  helped  to  cool  their  friendship. 
In  1672,  when  Mme.  Scarron  was  secretly  bringing  up 
the  illegitimate  children  of  Louis  XIV.  in  a  secluded 
part  of  the  Faubourg  Saint- Germain,  near  Vaugirard, 
some  distance  beyond  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  house,  the 
former  was  still  very  friendly  with  her ;  she  often 
enjoyed  a  chat  with  her,  and  al,*o  with  Mme.  de 
Coulanges ;  they  must  even  have  visited  together.  But 
Mme.  Scarron's  intimacy  gradually  became  less  con- 
fidential, the  result  being  that  tales  were  repeated,  aud 
conjectures  were  made,  which  caused  unpleasantness  be- 
tween the  friends.  "  The  idea  of  a  religious  life  never 
entered  my  mind,"  wrote  Mme.  de  Maintenon  to  the 
Abbe  Testu ;  "  therefore  you  may  reassure  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette."  Giving  her  brother  some  hints  on  economy 
Mine,  de  Maintenon  wrote  in  1678  :  "Even  if  I  had 
fifty  thousand  livres,  I  should  not  play  the  grande  dame, 
neither  could  I  have  a  bed  with  gold  lace  hangings 
*  Mme.  de  Sevigne.  t  Segraisiana, 


196  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

like  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  nor  a  valet-de-chambre  like 
Mme.  de  Coulanges.  Is  the  pleasure  derived  from 
such,  luxuries  worth  the  sarcasms  they  rouse  ? "  I  do 
not  know  if  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  gold-embroidered 
bed  lent  itself  well  to  such  witticisms ;  but  lying 
on  it,  as  too  often  happened,  she  was  certainly  more 
simple  than  her  friend  in  that  mantle  the  colour  of 
dead  leaves  which  she  affected  to  the  end.  At  last 
friendship  between  them  entirely  ceased.  Mine,  de 
Maintenon  made  that  known :  "  I  have  not  been  able 
to  preserve  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  friendship,  she  exacted 
too  much  for  its  continuance.  I  have  at  least  shown 
her  that  I  am  as  sincere  as  she  is.  The  Duke  is  the 
cause  of  our  misunderstanding.  We  have  before  mis- 
understood each  other  in  small  matters."*  And  in 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  Memoires  we  find,  under  the  years 
1688  and  1689,  a  propos  of  the  Comedie  d' Esther :  "  She" 
(Mine,  de  Maintenon)  "  commanded  a  poet  to  write  a 
comedy,  but  to  choose  a  pious  subject,  for  at  present 
there  is  no  safety  for  the  court  either  here  or  in  another 
world  except  in  piety.  .  .  .  The  comedy  illustrates  in 
some  way  the  fall  of  Mine,  de  Montespan  and  the  eleva- 
tion of  Mme.  de  Maintenon  ;  the  only  difference  being 
that  Esther  was  a  little  younger  and  less  affected  in  her 
piety."  In  quoting  the  words  of  these  two  illustrious 
women,  it  gives  me  no  pleasure  to  rake  up  again  the 
bitterness  which  destroyed  a  long  friendship.  The 
fact  is,  Mme.  de  Maintenon  and  Mme.  de  la  Fayette 

*  Letter  to  Mme.  de  Saint  Geran,  August  1684.  Of  what 
Duke  does  she  speak  ?  Is  it  the  new  Due  de  la  Rochefoucauld  ? 
We  see  from  one  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  letters  to  the  same 
lady  (April  1679)  that  she  could  not  endure  the  Marsallacs, 
father  and  son.  All  these  letters  to  Mme.  de  Saint  Geran 
have  become  very  untrustworthy  since  the  last  criticisms  on  La 
Beaumelle's  edition. 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  197 

were  both  important  and  influential  women,  and  they 
took  too  little  trouble  to  retain  each  other's  regard. 
Mme.  de  Maintenon's  elevation  being  the  latest,  she 
no  doubt  gradually  changed  towards  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette,  who  remained  the  same  as  before  ;  it  was  this 
very  consistency  of  conduct  which  was  irritating  to 
Mme.  de  Maintenon,  who  probably  would  have  liked  to 
see  her  change  a  little  with  her  fortune.  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  ill  and  dying  was  still  the  same  as  when  Mme. 
Scarron,  writing  to  Mme.  de  Chantelou  on  her  present- 
ation to  Mme.  de  Montespan  in  1666,  said  of  her  :  "Mme. 
de  Thianges  introduced  me  to  her  sister.  ...  I  made 
my  distress  apparent  .  .  .  without  putting  it  into  words ; 
...  so  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  would  have  been  pleased 
by  the  sincerity  of  my  expressions,  and  the  brevity  with 
which  they  were  delivered."  Had  I  been  M.  Rcederer, 
and  wished  to  give  an  example  of  amiable  and  refined 
society  in  which  grace  mingled  with  gravity  and 
sincerity,  I  should  have  found  it  in  the  circle  composed 
by  Mme.  de  Sevigne"  and  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  rather 
than  in  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  successful  elevation  and 
marriage.  The  latter,  in  a  sense,  injured  refined  society, 
as  certain  revolutionaries  have  injured  liberty  by  push- 
ing it  too  far,  and  forcing  excesses  which  call  forth 
reaction  in  an  opposite  direction.  She  should  have 
avoided  extreme  prudishness  or  over  strictness,  and  so 
have  delayed  the  excesses  of  the  Regency. 

In  July  1677,  a  year  before  the  publication  of  the 
Princesse  de  Cleves,  we  find  that  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's 
health  was  at  its  worst,  although  she  still  had  fifteen 
years  to  pine  and  suffer  before  release  came,  being  one 
of  those  who  drag  out  their  miserable  existence  to  the  last 
drop  of  oil.*  It  was  in  the  following  winter,  however, 
that  M.  de  la  Kochefoucauld  and  she  put  the  final 
*  Mme.  de  Sevign6. 


198  MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE. 

touches  to  the  charming  romance  which  was  issued  by 
Barbier  on  the  16th  of  March  1678.  Segrais,  who  again 
crosses  our  path,  says,  in  one  place,  that  he  has  not 
taken  the  trouble  to  reply  to  the  criticisms  which  Were 
made  on  this  romance  ;  and  in  another  place,  that 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette  has  not  condescended  to  reply  to 
them  ;  so  that  we  are  free  to  speculate  as  to  the  extent 
of  his  co-operation.  But  we  shall  not  discuss  this  at 
present,  and  the  romance  is  too  superior  to  anything  he 
has  ever  written  to  admit  of  any  hesitation.  Besides, 
no  one  was  deceived  :  those  who  read  it  in  confidence  had 
spoken  of  it ;  and  the  book  was  well  received  as  the 
work  of  Mine,  de  la  Fayette  alone,  aided  by  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld's  good  taste.  As  soon  as  this  Princesse, 
so  long  heralded,  appeared,  it  was  the  chief  topic  of 
conversation  and  of  correspondence.  Bussy  and  Mme. 
de  Sevigne'  wrote  to  each  other  about  it ;  everywhere 
people  were  full  of  curiosity  about  it,  stopping  each 
other  in  the  broad  walk  of  the  Tuileries  to  exchange 
opinions  regarding  it.  Fontenelle  read  the  romance  four 
times,  always  finding  something  new  in  it ;  Boursault 
composed  a  tragedy  from  it,  as  now  it  would  have  been 
turned  into  a  vaudeville  ;  Valincour  wrote  anonymously 
a  little  volume  of  criticism  which  was  attributed  to 
Pere  Bonhours ;  and  an  Abbe"  de  Charnes  replied  by 
another  little  volume,  with  which  Barbier  d'Aucourt, 
the  celebrated  critic  of  the  time,  and  the  habitual  enemy 
of  the  spiritual  Jesuit,  was  credited.  The  Princesse 
de  Cloves  has  survived  to  obtain  the  reputation  it 
deserved,  and  remains  the  earliest  of  our  most  esteemed 
romances. 

It  is  pathetic  to  think  of  the  peculiar  circumstances 
in  which  these  pure  and  charming  creations  were  com- 
posed,— these  noble,  stainless  characters,  so  healthy,  so 
accomplished,  so  tender ;  for  Mme.  de  la  Fayette 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAVETTE.  199 

endows  them  with  all  her  loving  and  romantic  soul 
retains  of  early,  ever-cherished  dreams.  M.  de  la 
Rochefoucauld,  too,  had  been  delighted  to  discover  in 
M.  de  Nemours  that  brilliant  bloom  of  chivalry  which 
he  himself  had  so  abused,  a  beautiful  mirror  in  which 
his  own  youth  lives  again.*  Thus  did  those  two  old 
friends  return  in  imagination  to  that  early  time  when 
they  neither  knew  nor  loved  each  other.  That  well- 
known  blush  of  Mine,  de  Cleves,  which  at  first  is  almost 
her  only  language,  distinctly  marks  the  author's  idea, 
which  is  to  picture  love  as  all  that  is  freshest  and  most 
modest,  most  agitating,  undecided,  and  irresistible, — 
most  itself,  in  a  word.  There  is  a  constant  study  of 
that  delight  which  youth  and  beauty  give  ;  of  that  embar- 
rassed agitation  in  every  ad  which,  in  tlie  innocence  of 
early  youth,  love  causes ;  in  short,  she  dwells  on  all  which 
is  most  unlike  herself  and  her  friend,  and  their  tardy 
affection.  In  the  ordinary  things  of  life  she  was 
especially  sensible  ;  her  judgment  was  superior  to  her 
wit,  it  was  said  of  her,  and  this  praise  flattered  her 
more  than  anything  :  here  poetry  and  sensitiveness  are 
uppermost,  though  judgment  never  fails.  Nowhere  as 
in  the  Princesse  de  Cl&ves  have  the  contradictions  and 
the  delicate  duplicities  of  love  been  so  naturally  ex- 
pressed. "  Mme.  de  Cleves  had  in  the  beginning  been 
annoyed  that  M.  de  Nemours  had  been  led  to  suppose 
that  she  had  prevented  him  going  to  the  Marshal 
de  Saint- Andrews  house  ;  then  afterwards  she  was  vexed 
that  her  mother  enlightened  him  as  to  the  truth.  .  .  . 
Mme.  de  Cleves  was  very  much  afraid  that  the  prince 
would  discover  her  partiality  for  him  ;  and  his  words 

*  The  Abb6  Longuerne  tells  us  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  re- 
mained all  his  life  faithful  to  his  love  of  romance.  Every  after- 
noon he  and  Segrais  used  to  meet  at  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  to 
read  L'Astree.  He  retained  throughout  a  taste  for  romance. 


200  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

showed  her  that  she  was  not  mistaken.  She  was  much 
distressed  to  find  that  she  was  no  longer  able  to  hide 
her  feelings,  and  that  she  had  allowed  them  to  be  seen 
by  the  Chevalier  de  Guise.  She  was  also  sorry  that  M. 
de  Nemours  knew  of  her  feelings  ;  but  this  last  trouble 
was  not  so  deep,  and  it  was  blended  with  a  certain 
degree  of  sweetness."  The  action  of  the  plot  is  always 
correct,  well  concentrated,  conversational,  unlikely  only 
in  one  or  two  instances,  although  this  is  scarcely 
discovered  on  account  of  the  interest  one  is  made  to 
feel  in  the  story.  The  episodes  are  never  too  lengthy  ; 
they  rather  help  than  retard  the  progress  of  the  plot. 
The  most  unlikely  episode,  that  of  the  pavilion,  when 
M.  de  Nemours  arrives  in  a  very  remarkable  manner, 
just  in  time  to  hear  from  behind  a  palisade  the  avowal 
made  to  Mme.  de  Cleves, — this  scene,  which  Bussy  and 
Valincour  pick  to  pieces,  nevertheless,  according  to 
the  latter,  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  even  of  such  as  would 
scarcely  be  affected  by  Iphiytfnie.  To  us  who  are  little 
disquieted  by  unlikely  episodes,  and  who  love  the 
Princesse  de  Cloves  and  its  rather  old-fashioned  style, 
what  charms  us  most  is  the  want  of  exaggeration  in 
those  scenes  which  are  so  expressive,  the  ever-present 
vein  of  gentle  dreaminess,  the  lover  strolling  by  tho 
willow-shaded  stream  ;  and  the  vivid  description  of 
the  loved  one's  beauty,  her  hair  carelessly  caught  up; 
again,  her  eyes  slightly  dilated  by  tears  ;  and,  to  give  a 
last  quotation,  that  life  which  was  short  enough,  the 
impression  she  herself  was  deeply  conscious  of.  The 
language  also  is  charming,  delicate,  and  exquisitely 
chosen,*  with  some  careless  yet  graceful  irregularities, 

*  A  critic  we  are  pleased  to  quote,  has  said :  "  It  is  very 
remarkable  to  observe  how,  under  Louis  XIV.,  the  French 
language  in  all  its  purity,  as  written  by  Mme.  de  la  Fayette, 
Mme.  de  Sevigne,  and  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  is  composed  of  a 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  201 

and  which  Valincour  only  specified  in  case  they  should 
be  condemned  by  a  grammarian  of  his  acquaintance, 
but  feeling  almost  ashamed  to  make  them  any  reproach 
to  the  charming  authoress. 

The  little  volume  by  Valincour,  which  Adry  has 
republished  in  his  edition  of  the  Princesse  de  Cteves,  is 
a  distinguished  specimen  of  polite  criticism,  such  as 
amateurs  of  taste  indulged  in  under  Louis  XIV. 
Valincour  was  only  twenty-five  at  the  time ;  he  did 
not  associate  with  Huet  and  Segrais  ;  he  belonged  to  a 
later  generation,  and  was  the  issue  of  Racine's  and 
Boileau's  teaching.  His  malice,  which  was  always 
temperate,  did  not  prevent  him  being  just,  and  giving 
praise  where  it  was  due ;  he  has  not,  however,  re- 
strained from  captious  cavilling  over  details.  Those  who 
attributed  the  criticism  to  Pere  Bonhours,  had  cause  to 
find  it  comical  that  the  censor  objects  to  the  first 
meeting  of  M.  de  Cleves  and  Mile,  de  Chartres  having 
taken  place  in  a  jeweller's  shop  rather  than  in  a 
church.  However,  the  whole  shows  a  sharp,  discrimin- 
ating judgment,  discreetly  sarcastic, — such  sarcasm  as 
Fontanes  might  have  consulted  with  pleasure  and 
profit  before  criticising  Mme.  de  Stael.  The  Abbe" 
de  Charnes,  who  replies  to  this  criticism  word  for  word, 
refutes  it  with  scorn,  but,  in  my  opinion,  in  the  style  of 
a  provincialist  who  had  not  asked  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's 
permission  to  defend  her  ;  Barbier  d'Aucourt,  without 
possessing  any  very  delicate  powers,  would  have 
acquitted  himself  otherwise.  Valincour,  it  is  apparent, 
has  a  complete  theory  about  the  historical  romance, 
which  is  so  very  well  exemplified  by  a  scholar  whom 

few  expressions  which  in  conversation  constantly  recur  with  a 
charm  of  their  own.  .  .  .  One  can  say,  especially  as  regards 
Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  style,  that  it  was  purity  and  transparency 
itself, — the  liquida  vox  of  Horace." 


202  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

he  brings  forward ;  this  theory  is  the  same  as  that 
which  Walter  Scott  has  partly  realized. 

Bussy,  who  in  his  letters  to  Mme.  de  Sevigne  speaks 
at  considerable  length  of  the  Princesse  de  Cleves,  adds, 
with  that  incredible  self-conceit  which  spoils  the  effect : 
"  Our  criticism  is  the  criticism  of  cultivated  people  who 
possess  Esprit;  printed  criticism  is  more  pungent  and 
amusing  in  many  instances."  To  avenge  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette  for  some  of  the  malice  perpetrated  by  that 
presumptuous  individual,  we  need  only  quote  from  him 
the  above  characteristic  remark. 

As  she  progressed  with  the  Princesse  de  Cleves,  Mme. 
de  la  Fayette,  after  her  first  retrospective  allusions  to 
youth  and  its  delights,  becomes  grave  again  ;  and  duty 
gradually  comes  to  be  her  chief  thought.  The  austere 
ending  is  in  keeping  with  her  idea  of  death  so  slowly 
approaching,  which  makes  iis  see  the  things  of  this  life  with 
very  different  eyes  from  those  through  which  we  see  them 
in  health.  She  had  felt  this  herself  since  the  summer 
of  1677,  and,  as  Mine,  de  Sevigne  indicates,  had  com- 
posed her  soul  for  the  end.  The  extinction  of  all  her 
illusions  is  displayed  in  the  shrinking  fear  she  makes 
Mme.  de  Cleves  express,  that  marriage  may  be  the 
tomb  of  the  prince's  love,  and  the  beginning  of 
jealousies  :  it  is  this  dread,  indeed,  as  much  as  any 
scruple  about  duty,  which  operates  in  the  mind  of 
Mme.  de  Cleves,  in  opposition  to  the  idea  of  marriage 
with  her  lover.  In  perfecting  their  ideal  romance,  it 
ia  evident  that  the  two  friends,  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 
and  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  in  questioning  the  supposed 
felicity  of  their  hero  and  heroine,  still  considered  their 
own  calmly  affectionate  connection  as  the  most  secure 
and  comfortable. 

They  did  not  enjoy  it  much  longer.  In  the  night 
between  the  16th  and  17th  of  March,  two  years  that 


MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE.  203 

very  day  after  the  publication  of  the  Princessc  de  Cloves, 
M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld 'died.  "My  head  is  so  full  of 
this  misfortune  and  of  the  extreme  affliction  of  our 
poor  friend,"  writes  Mine,  de  SeVigne",  "that  I  must 
speak  of  it  to  you.  .  .  .  M.  de  Marsallac  is  indescrib- 
ably afflicted  ;  however,  my  child,  he  will  console  him- 
self with  the  King  and  the  court ;  all  his  children  will 
find  some  one  to  take  his  place  ;  but  where  will  Mme. 
de  la  Fayette  find  such  a  friend  again,  such  companion- 
ship, such  gentleness,  such  pleasantness,  such  confid- 
ence, such  consideration  for  her  and  for  her  son  ?  She 
is  infirm,  confined  to  her  room,  unable  to  go  about. 
M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld  was  also  sedentary  ;  this  made 
them  necessary  to  each  other,  and  nothing  could  equal 
the  confidence  and  charm  of  their  friendship.  Think 
of  it,  my  child  ;  you  will  find  it  scarcely  possible  that 
there  could  be  a  greater  loss,  one  which  time  could  do 
less  to  repair.  I  have  not  left  my  poor  friend  all 
these  days ;  she  could  not  join  the  crowding  family, 
she  needed  some  one  to  have  pity  on  her.  Mme. 
de  Coulanges  has  done  very  well  also,  and  we  shall 
remain  some  time  yet."  And  in  every  letter  which 
followed :  "  Poor  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  does  not  know 
what  to  do  with  herself.  .  .  .  They  are  all  consoled 
excepting  her."  This  is  what  Mine,  de  SeVigne  repeats 
over  and  over  again,  and  every  time  more  expressively 
than  before :  "  This  poor  creature,  do  what  she  will, 
cannot  fill  that  vacant  place."  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  did 
not  seek  to  fill  it  up  ;  she  knew  that  such  losses  cannot 
be  replaced.  Even  that  tender. friendship  with  Mme. 
de  Sevigne1  was  not  enough,  she  knew  that  well ;  there 
was  too  much  to  divide  them.  To  convince  oneself 
of  the  incompleteness  of  such  friendships,  even  the 
greatest  and  dearest,  we  have  but  to  read  Mme.  de  la 
Fayette's  letter  to  Mme.  de  Sevigne"  on  -the  8th  of 


204  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

October  1689,  so  matchless,  so  peremptory,  and  so 
urgently  unceremonious  in  its  affection,  and  afterwards 
to  read  the  commentary  Mme.  de  Sevigne"  makes  on  it 
in  writing  to  her  daughter, — "  Good  gracious  !  what  a 
fine  proposition,  to  have  no  more  a  house  of  my  own, 
to  be  dependent,  to  have  no  equipage,  and  to  owe  a 
thousand  &  us ! " — and  we  will  understand  that  it  does 
not  do  to  expect  everything  from  such  friendships 
unless  they  are  quite  undivided,  since  even  the  most 
delicate  can  judge  thus.  After  love,  after  absolute 
friendship  with  no  reservation  or  thought  for  any  other 
besides,  there  is  only  death  or  God. 

Mme.  de  la  Fayette  lived  thirteen  years  longer :  we 
have  Mme.  de  Sevigne  to  refer  to  for  some  slender 
details  regarding  her  outward  life  during  these  lonely 
years.  A  hastily  formed  intimacy  with  the  young 
Mme.  de  Schomberg  awakened  the  curiosity  and  the 
jealousy  of  older  friends  ;  it  does  not  appear  that  this 
effort  of  a  heart  which  had  found  something  to  cling 
to  was  an  enduring  effort.  It  was  probably  the  same 
restless  yearning  which,  in  the  early  months  of  her 
loss,  led  her  to  again  enlarge  her  already  vast  rooms 
from  the  garden  side,  even  as,  alas !  her  life  was 
waning.  She  also  seems  to  have  filled  up  her  time 
by  writing  some  things  which  are  now  lost.  La 
Comtesse  de  Tende  must  have  been  written  during  these 
years. 

Bussy's  most  severe  criticism,  and  also  that  of  the 
world  at  large,  on  the  subject  of  La  Princesse  de  Cleves, 
was  called  forth  by  the  extraordinary  confession  which 
the  heroine  makes  to  her  husband  ;  Mme.  de  la  Fayette, 
in  inventing  another  similar  situation,  which  led  to  a 
still  more  extraordinary  confession,  thought  that  the 
first  would  thus  be  so  far  justified.  She  succeeded  in 
La  Comtesse  de  Tende,  although  greater  art  was  neces- 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  205 

sary  to  give  the  Princesse  de  Cleves  a  sister  worthy  of 
her :  we  feel  that  the  author  has  a  limit,  and  is  drawing 
near  it. 

Les  Me'moires  de  la  Cour  de  France,  for  the  years 
1688  and  1689,  are  remarkable  for  sequence,  precision, 
and  freedom  from  prejudice ;  no  wandering  from  the 
point,  scarcely  any  reflections,  even ;  a  vivid,  impressive 
narrative,  always  intelligent.  The  author  of  such  a 
work  was  certainly  capable  of  more  important  things.  I 
have  quoted  her  cutting  remark  on  Mme.  de  Maintenon 
d  propos  of  Esther.  Racine,  therefore,  and  his  Comedie 
de  Convent  is  treated  rather  slightingly  :  "  Mine,  de 
Maintenon,  to  amuse  her  little  girls  and  the  King, 
ordered  a  comedy  to  be  written  by  Racine,  the  best 
poet  of  the  day,  who  was  taken  from  his  poetry,  in 
which  he  is  inimitable,  to  make  of  it,  to  his  own  mis- 
fortune, and  that  of  all  who  can  appreciate  good  plays, 
a  very  imi table  historian."  Mine,  de  la  Fayette's  circle 
preferred  Corneille  to  Eacine.  In  Zayde,  she  had 
imitated  that  Spanish  style  so  dear  to  the  author  of 
the  Cid,  and  which  Racine  and  Boileau  had  super- 
seded. She  often  saw  Fontenelle,  and  her  particular 
friends  were  men  like  Segrais  and  Huet,  who  both  dis- 
liked, almost  hated,  those  two  reigning  poets,  Racine 
and  Boileau.  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  who  admired 
them  both  as  writers,  found  that  they  possessed  only 
one  kind  of  talent,  and  considered  them  poor  company 
outside  their  poetry.  Lastly,  Valincour,  who  had 
attacked  the  Princesse  de  Cleves,  was  the  pupil  and 
intimate  friend  of  both.  But  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  was 
too  talented  and  too  just  not  to  admire  as  they  de- 
served, authors  whose  tenderness  and  justice  found  in 
her  such  ready  chords  of  harmony.  At  the  moment 
when  her  reverence  for  Racine  was  at  its  lowest,  she 
calls  him  the  best  poet,  and  inimitable.  We  have  seen 


206  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

that  at  Gourville's  house,  in  which  she  was  almost  at 
home,  La  podique  of  Boileau  was  read  before  her. 
We  have  observed  how  many  qualities  she  possessed  in 
common  with  Despreaux,*  upright  judgment,  incon- 
testable criticism  ;  also,  in  her  way,  she  was  an  oracle 
of  wisdom  to  her  circle.  Numerous  expressions  of  hers 
have  been  retained  which  are  exactly  in  Boileau's  style ; 
we  add  the  following  to  those  of  them  we  have  already 
quoted  :  "  He  who  sets  himself  above  others,  however 
great  his  talent,  puts  himself  below  that  talent." 
Boileau,  in  conversation  with  D'Olivet,  one  day  said, 
"  Do  you  know  why  the  ancients  had  so  few 
admirers  ?  Because  at  least  three-fourths  of  those  who 
have  translated  them  have  been  either  ignorant  persons 
or  fools.  Mme.  de  la  Fayette,  the  woman  in  France 
who  possessed  the  greatest  talent,  and  who  wrote  best, 
compared  a  stupid  translator  to  a  servant  who  is  sent 
by  his  mistress  to  deliver  a  compliment  to  some  one. 
What  his  mistress  has  told  him  in  polite  language  to 
eay,  he  goes  and  expresses  clumsily,  he  maims  the 
message  ;  the  more  delicacy  there  is  in  the  compliment, 
the  less  able  is  the  servant  to  convey  its  meaning. 
This,  in  few  words,  is  the  most  perfect  image  of  a  bad 
translator."  Boileau,  therefore,  seems  himself  to  certify 
the  fact  of  this  resemblance,  this  affinity  which  we  have 
indicated. 

M.  Rcederer  is  quite  right  with  regard  to  Moliere's 
relations  with  the  circle  formed  by  Mmes.  de  Sevigue 
and  de  la  Fayette,  when  he  declares  that  the  femmes 
savantes  had  no  reference  to  them  at  alL  As  for 
La  Fontaine,  it  is  well  known  that  at  one  time  he 
was  on  intimate  terms  with  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  ;  we 
have  his  very  friendly  lines  addressed  to  her  when 

*  Boileau.— TR. 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  207 

sending  her  a  little  billiard -table,  about  the  same  time 
that  he  dedicated  a  fable  to  the  author  of  the  Maximes, 
and  another  to  Mile,  de  Sevigne.* 

After  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld's  death,  Mine,  de  la 
Fayette's  thoughts  became  more  strongly  fixed  on 
religious  subjects  ;  we  have  trustworthy  evidence  of 
this  in  a  long  and  beautiful  letter  from  Du  Gnet  to 
her.  She  had  chosen  him  as  her  director.  Without 
being  absolutely  connected  with  Port-Royal,  all  her 
inclinations  lay  in  that  direction,  and  the  hypocrisy  of 
the  court  also  influenced  this  tendency.  We  have  seen 
that  her  stepfather  was  the  Chevalier  Renaud  de  S&ignS, 
uncle  of  Mine,  de  Sevigne,  and  one  of  the  benefactors 
of  Port-Royal-des-Champs,  the  cloister  of  which  he 

*  lime,  de  la  Fayette  was  therefore  actually  of  the  same 
group,  the  same  Parnassus,  so  to  speak,  as  La  Fontaine,  Racine, 
and  Despreaux  ; l  and  the  following  little  story  is  simply  a 
rather  childish  version  of  the  truth  :  "  In  1675,"  we  are  told  by 
Menage,  "  Mme.  de  Thianges  gave  to  M.  le  Due  du  Maine,  as  a 
New  Year's  gift,  a  gilded  room  about  the  siz  table.  Over 

the  door  was  written  in  large  letters,  Chambre  du  Sublime.  In 
the  room  was  a  bed  with  a  balustre,*  and  a  large  easy -chair,  in 
which  sat  M.  le  Due  du  Maine,  made  in  wax,  a  very  good 
likeness.  Near  him  stood  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  to  whom 
he  was  handing  some  verses  to  examine.  Standing  round, 
were  M.  de  Marsillac  and  M.  Bossuet,  then  Bishop  of  Condom. 
In  a  corner  of  the  alcove  were  Mme.  de  Thianges  and  Mme. 
de  la  Fayette,  reading  some  verses.  Outside  the  balustre, 
Despreaux,  with  a  pitchfork,  was  preventing  seven  or  eight 
wretched  poets  from  entering.  Racine  was  near  Despreaux, 
and  a  little  farther  off  La  Fontaine,  to  whom  he  was  making  a 
sign  to  come  forward.  All  these  figures  were  of  wax  and  in 
miniature,  and  each  person  represented  had  given  his  own." 
Menage  does  not  inform  us  if  he  himself  posed  as  one  of  the 
wretched  poets  driven  away  by  Boileau. 

i  Boileau.— TR.  *  A  railed-off  recess.— TR. 


2o8  MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE. 

had  rebuilt.  He  did  not  die  till  1672.*  Mine,  de  la 
Fayette  knew  Du  Guet,  who  had  begun  to  exercise 
great  influence  on  the  spiritual  direction  of  consciences, 
and  who,  in  the  decline  of  Port-Royal,  held  only  to 
its  righteous  traditions,  avoiding  all  shallow  conten- 
tiousness. Here  are  some  of  the  earnest  words  which 
this  spiritually-minded  priest  addressed  to  the  penitent 
who  had  requested  them  from  him  : — 

"  I  have  considered,  Madame,  that  you  ought  to 
employ  usefully  the  earliest  moments  of  the  day  in 
which  you  cease  to  sleep  only  to  begin  to  dream.  I 
know  your  thoughts  are  not  then  connected  thoughts, 
and  that  very  often  your  chief  endeavour  is  to  have  no 
thoughts,  and  it  is  difficult  not  to  yield  to  this  inclina- 
tion when  one  would  willingly  let  it  rule  ;  it  is  easier 
to  give  way  than  to  overcome  self.  It  is  therefore  im- 
portant that  you  should  nourish  yourself  on  more  solid 
food  than  aimless  thoughts,  the  most  innocent  of  which 
are  useless  ;  and  I  believe  you  could  not  better  employ 
such  a  peaceful  time  than  in  taking  thought  to  yourself 
of  a  life  already  very  long,  and  of  which  there  remains 
to  you  now  only  a  reputation  the  vanity  of  which  you 
yourself  understand  better  than  any  one.  Till  now  the 

*  Towards  the  last,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette's  relations  with  Port- 
Eoyal  were  more  direct  than  I  had  thought.  I  read  in  a  letter 
from  Racine  to  M.  de  Bonrepaux  (28th  July  1693) :  "  Your 
friend  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  gave  us  very  melancholy  entertain- 
ment. I  had  not  been  fortunate  enough  to  see  her  during  the 
latter  years  of  her  life.  God  had  cast  a  salutary  shadow  over 
all  her  worldly  occupations,  and  she  died,  after  suffering  in 
solitude  and  admirable  resignation  from  her  severe  infirmities, 
receiving  great  support  from  the  ministrations  of  M.  1'Abbe 
Du  Guet  and  some  of  the  Messieurs  of  Port-Royal,  whom  she 
held  in  great  veneration,  and  this  caused  Mme.  la  Comtesse  de 
Grammont  to  praise  them  very  highly,  for  she  openly  holds 
Port-Royal  in  high  esteem." 


MADAME  DE  LA  FAYETTE.  209 

clouds  with  which  you  have  tried  to  envelop  religion 
have  deceived  even  you  yourself.  As  it  is  by  its  aid 
alone  that  one  can  and  ought  to  examine  and  know 
oneself,  in  affecting  to  ignore  it  you  have  only  ignored 
yourself.  It  is  time  to  put  everything  in  its  place,  and 
to  put  yourself  in  yours.  Truth  will  be  your  judge, 
and  you  are  here  but  to  follow  that  and  not  to  be  the 
judge  of  it.  In  vain  we  defend  ourselves,  in  vain  we 
deceive :  the  veil  is  rent  asunder  as  life  and  its  in- 
ordinate desires  fade  away  ;  and  we  are  convinced  that 
we  shall  lead  an  altogether  new  life  when  we  are  no 
longer  permitted  to  dwell  here.  We  must  therefore 
begin  by  an  earnest  desire  to  see  ourselves  as  we  are 
seen  by  our  Judge.  Such  self-knowledge  is  grievous 
even  for  such  as  have  been  least  self -deceived.  It 
divests  us  of  all  our  virtues,  even  of  our  good  qualities, 
and  of  all  the  esteem  they  have  acquired  for  us.  We 
feel  that  till  then  we  have  been  living  in  falsehood  and 
delusion  ;  that  we  have  been  feeding  on  painted  food  ; 
that  we  have  used  virtue  only  as  a  cloak,  and  neglected 
to  search  our  hearts,  because  that  searching  means 
trusting  all  to  God  and  to  salvation,  despising  oneself 
in  all  things,  not  through  a  wiser  kind  of  vanity,  a 
more  enlightened,  more  cultivated  pride,  but  because 
we  are  convinced  of  our  wrong-doing  and  wretched- 
ness." 

The  remainder  of  the  letter  is  equally  admirable,  and 
in  this  urgent  and  appropriate  tone  :  "  Thus  you  who 
have  dreamed,  cease  your  dreams  !  You  who  have  been 
esteemed  sincere  above  others,  and  on  whom  the  world 
has  bestowed  this  flattery,  you  are  not  so  ;  you  have 
never  been  more  than  half  sincere ;  without  God, 
your  wisdom  was  but  a  cultivated  mind."  Further 
on  I  read  a  sentence  on  those  years  "when  one  has 
not  yet  sincerely  repented,  because  one  is  minded 
o 


2io  MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE. 

to  excuse  one's  weakness,  and  to  love  what  has  caused 
it."* 

A  year  before  her  death,  Mme.  de  la  Fayette  wrote  to 
Mme.  de  Sevigne"  a  short  note,  in  which  she  describes 
her  miserable  condition,  unable  to  sleep  either  by  night 
or  by  day,  her  resignation  to  God's  will ;  and  she  ends 
in  these  words  :  "  Believe,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  have 
loved  you  better  than  any  other  human  being."  That 
other  affection  which  she  no  more  named,  no  longer 
took  into  account,  was  it  at  last  expunged,  consumed 
away  in  sacrifice? 

There  is  harmony  to  the  very  last,  and  now  it  ends. 
Mine,  de  Sevigne  writes  to  Mme.  de  Guitaud  on  the 
3rd  June  1693,  two  or  three  days  after  the  fatal  day, 
deploring  the  death  of  that  faithful  friend  of  forty  years : 
"...  For  two  years  her  infirmity  had  been  extreme  ; 
I  always  defended  her  against  those  who  said  she  was 
foolish  not  to  go  out.  '  She  is  sad  unto  death,'  I  used 
to  tell  them :  still  they  would  insist,  saying,  '  What 
folly !  is  she  not  the  most  fortunate  woman  in  the 
world  ? '  Those  persons  were  very  hasty  in  their 
censure,  and  I  only  replied,  'Mine,  de  la  Fayette  is 
not  foolish,'  and  I  adhered  to  this.  Alas  !  Madame, 
the  poor  creature  is  now  justified.  .  .  .  She  had  heart 
disease.  Was  this  not  enough  to  account  for  her  par- 
oxysms of  pain?  She  was  right  in  her  life,  and  she 
is  right  after  death  ;  and  she  was  never  without  that 
divine  raison  which  was  her  chief  characteristic.  -She 
remained  unconscious  during  the  four  days  of  her  last 
illness.  For  our  consolation,  God  granted  us  a  special 
favour,  a  distinct  sign  of  her  predestination  ;  namely, 
that  she  confessed  on  the  festival  of  Corpus  Ghristi  with 

•In  his  youth,  Du  Guet  had  tried  to  write  a  sentimental 
romance,  and  he  greatly  admired  L'Astree;  he  was  a  most 
suitable  director  for  the  author  of  La  Princesse  de  Cleves. 


MADAME  DE  LA  FA  YETTE.  21 1 

an  accuracy  and  sincerity  which  could  have  come  only 
from  God,  and  received  the  holy  sacrament  in  the  same 
spirit.  Thus,  my  dear  Madame,  we  regard  the  com- 
munion which  she  was  accustomed  to  make  at  Whit- 
suntide as  God's  merciful  kindness  to  console  us  that 
she  was  not  in  a  state  to  receive  the  viaticum." 

Thus  died  and  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  gentle  sad- 
ness, painful  suffering,  worldly  wisdom,  and  Christian 
repentance,  she  whose  ideal  production  enchants  us. 
What  more  can  we  add  either  for  reflection  or  in- 
struction ?  Do  not  the  letter  to  Mine,  de  Sabl4,  La, 
Princesse  de  Cteves,  and  the  letter  of  Du  Guet,  contain 
the  whole  story  of  a  life  3 


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